


A King's Consort

by SS98



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha Harry, Bottom Louis, Demons, Dominant Harry, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fantasy AU, Feys, Ghouls, His queen is awful though, Hybrid Louis, King Harry, Louis-centric, M/M, Married Harry, Minor Character Death, Multiple Bonds, Polyamory, Polygamy, Shapeshifters - Freeform, Submissive Louis, Supernatural Elements, Top Harry, Vampire Harry, Vampires, Werewolves, Witches, Zombies, dystopian au, only in one regard, preternatural elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 08:08:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 61,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9539141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SS98/pseuds/SS98
Summary: 'One of my favorite things about hanging out with the monsters is the healing. Straight humans seemed to get killed on me a lot. Monsters survived. Let's hear it for the monsters.'Harry is the Immortal King with eyes only for his dearest companion. Louis is coming into his sensational powers at last with a series of confrontations he could only fathom in his macabre nightmares. A once effortless love is now strained by the encounters of those dishonorable beings from their World.





	1. I

“Dear me, Harry. Had you sooner told me you had such a tender heart I may have reconsidered my decision to befriend you.” Louis’ words were giggled in time with his perfectly soft hands brushing the curls atop his favourite companion’s head.

“Four hundred and twelve years it has been, my beauty.” Harry arched his neck to kiss Louis’ clothed thigh. “You were brilliant enough for the entirety of that duration to have found a reason to sabotage my affections if you needed.”

They were lying across Harry’s regal mattress in his master suite all to themselves besides the board-game that’s just been abandoned in light of the older male’s loss. As the sole King of Immortals, Harry is accustomed to things swaying in his direction except when the rules regarded his lovely Louis. Their story is one retold by the common civilians as quite a robbery of present mind to escape to that time when a prince disguised as a plain warrior during the brutal raid of Gentry met the baker’s son with midnight crystals for eyes.

_No day has been more astonishing than this in a quaint town on the outskirts of Troy, one of the largest cities to ever come to maturity under a King worthy of all the gold he possesses. The sun rose while Louis was lounging in his canopy on the roof of his guardian’s bakery, his body idle but his mind alight with prospects._

_But it all fell apart in the vilest ways when night came over Louis’ home in Gentry – being so after he was left in the care of sirens by his deceased father in his youngest years. Not being the capital where the king himself lived left Gentry and all its defenceless citizens exposed to the onslaught of the first attack made by the Immortals. Comprising only of vampires under the leadership of King Styles, the warriors invading their land were vicious and merciless._

_Louis’ guardian tried to get safely into the cellar beneath the house before the enemy made it through their front door but was too late. Siren magic was not violent and could not defend them against physical offences like most other magic, and as Louis spent his formative years amongst the timid sirens he knew of no other capabilities._

_The door burst open to let in horrid waves of emotions from the tortured citizens outside. Louis felt each bit of pain, anger and bloodlust like a spiked lick across his core that left him shaking but immobile. His strength shrivelled to naught and all he could think to do was scream. Scream until his blood curdled and his fists clenched. Scream until he could hear nothing else, feel no one else’s hurt._

_Arms grabbed him as the dark, towering shapes of the terrorizing soldiers blocked his view of all else, and Louis’ shouts were muted by his guardian’s pleas. Vampires had no conscience and therefore the heart that should inculcate goodness was rotten. Red eyes of maddened fighters captured Louis’ but they could not put him under, not like they did with the other sirens. He could not fight against them when all he learned was peace._

_Time seemed to slow when he was forcibly being made to surrender, his beauty betraying him when the warrior who had slain his guardian and made unlawful tears flow down Louis’ face got him up against the wall. Something in him was afraid up until the sight of silvery blood dripping from his fondest siren’s mouth broke that fear. He had untapped fierceness that fuelled his actions henceforth._

_With confidence he willingly wrapped his legs around the warrior’s waist, blind in seeing his attacker’s face. The broken shard of a vase came to him in a flicker of hope so Louis flipped it and plunged the sharp end into the vampire’s neck. He knew they healed quickly and were never weak for long so he dug into the brute strength that his nearly forgotten father reminded him that he would always have. Louis removed the porcelain weapon and replaced it with his fingers, feeling the gushing maroon warmth like a figment of his favourite memories. He ignored the hands clasping his hips and ripped in a manner that would make any siren ashamed of him. The head of his violator rolled lifelessly off his shoulder but Louis did not wait to see._

_Stealing the incapacitated vampire’s sword and gun with slippery, murderous hands Louis wasted no time in regretting what he’d done. He barely made it out the door when he saw the damage done to his home and the families surrounding their innocent bakery. One does not define pillage until they’ve seen such heinous destruction._

_Fire was set to so many homes with people in it, babies and the elderly. Vampires were ruthless but they knew an attack like this would do them no good so it could never have been King Styles’ men. Louis remembers the red eyes of his possessed first kill and gasped when it dawned on him that these creatures raking through their land with bloodshed and torment were demons, vampires turned to pure evil._

_Although in small numbers, demons could cause an infinite amount of harm. Louis was about to abandon the safety he’d claimed momentarily when his midsection was seized, strong arms lifting him from the ground as he struggled._

_“Let me go!” Louis had dropped the sword and his access to the gun holster was nullified by this pursuer’s arms._

_“Hush.” This voice was much too sultry and human to be a demon’s._

_Louis saw the ocean of fighters on horses coming from both the king’s city and the sea where visiting royalty harboured their fleet. Whoever it was that was visiting saw it incumbent to help the burning town and Louis felt relief barely from beneath his sorrow._

_“You are safe now.” This unknown protector took the gun from Louis, his hidden face smiling at the eyes as he extracted the porcelain shard from Louis’ stiffened fist. “You are one fair warrior, aren’t you?”_

Styles’ men were the ones who raced to the sirens’ aid and eliminated all the demons that took from Louis what he could never earn back. He was alone in this vast world of things that went unexplored before, until his masked protector came to him as Prince Harry. He was alone no more and had found his soul-mate in an Immortal who told him the truth of his past. However, being best friends and then passionate lovers had never harnessed so much agony as it did for them.

Such anguish was only swept aside by the courts because Harry was a prince when he declared that Louis will be the one he marries, but not two days later his older brother had died. The vampires have always ruled the Immortal Empire and the tragic loss of their heir made them vulnerable to other Immortal houses that lusted after the throne. This left the duty of ruler to Harry, a member of the most powerful Vampire bloodline in all of history, and the choice in spouse was finalised for him, a female of excellent birth and off unearthly beauty. She is vampire too and while less powerful by hoards, still bests the other ladies. They wed on a cold day and although she felt for Harry what little she was allowed, her husband reciprocated nothing but resentment.

At first the toll on Louis was unimaginable and his heart was dealt the one blow it fought gravely to survive. His health deteriorated to nothing but a husk of the lush personality he was adored for by all who knew him, and he was sent off without reason in the days of the wedding so that Harry would not see him fall apart. The young prince who turned King was furious and rode himself for five nights to retrieve Louis, bring him back to his true home.

Since then they have been in each other’s company as often as possible. In respect for tradition and Harry’s marriage, Louis had initially asked that they discontinue their physical relationship. Harry took him then and there in his study to answer in negation.

Harry’s power has grown immensely in the year he’s ruled, and his reputation as one of the most just Immortal Kings has already been noted by those who mattered. Vampires are the only preternatural beings that are able to inherit powers outside of their obvious nature, an extra power that could be wielded throughout their existence. Nobody bothered to monitor Harry when he was a prince but after his brother’s demise, they came to know that his ability is to draw power.

The first of its kind and mostly unexplored, this gift has been said is granted by the Father of all vampires directly. Being able to draw energy on command meant that after a year of intense training, Harry can suck the life out of a creature as torture as a most cruel torture or he can isolate a talent from them he wishes to possess before robbing them of it. His talents are now seemingly endless from the sacrifices he has received in the name of peace offerings from the wolves and witches, feys and ghouls.

But then there is his Louis, who falls into no previously recorded category of Immortal. He is a specie unto himself and unique in ways nobody but Harry could comprehend.

His mother was fey and his father was Lycan, the last of his kind. Together they brought into the world a most astonishing creature that was not slave to lightning or the moon, but commanded them both. Louis could bend electricity the way Harry bent all four natural elements, and he puzzled the courts severely when the Weres in their lands fought hard to meet him, offer themselves to him.

His father, as the last remaining Lycan and ancestor to all wolves, had given to Louis the ability to lead those of his kind that sought him out. Weres, superior to werewolves, were determined to have their finest warrior bound to the beautiful son of their deceased Lord who had an outsider for a mate. The wolf traditions always puzzled Louis for one had to be the Alpha’s mate – Lord or Lady – to serve as their protector and ruler while the Alpha himself had little standing. He’d rejected all proposals because he was not going to belong to someone when he loved another.

“Stay with me tonight.” Harry murmurs, drunk with impending slumber as midnight grew nearer and thereafter the forbidden dawn.

Louis pressed his lips to Harry’s temple and smiled a secret grin, one only for him and his beloved. “I will.”

“Tye says you are to go with them tomorrow.” Harry’s disdain is evident in his unkind tone of voice, eyes setting in a shade closer to black than green. “He said he has a gift finally worthy of you.”

“He told me the same.” Tye is the only warrior from Louis’ suitors who refuses to allow defeat entirely. If he cannot marry Louis then he will serve him so loyally as to put all romantics to shame. “Why do you let him get beneath your skin?”

Harry growls with not an ounce of playfulness and flattens Louis on the silk sheets abruptly, caging his boy in so all that can be seen is the deeply upset rage being displaced in his eyes. He’s always struggled with his beast. “Because he desires my place in your heart. It’s _mine._ ”

“Hush, my king.” Louis cups Harry’s stubbly jaw, kisses the tip of his nose and shakes his own head in surety. A slight glow is travelling through the room from one surviving lamp, bringing a ghastly yellowness to all the vampire’s flawless features. “You know you are the only one who will ever grace the confines of my soul.”

It was effortless for Harry swoop down and capture Louis’ lips with his, a strangled moan tumbling from within the core of his chest. His sounds have grown to be frightening since Harry’s powers have matured as well as his status elevated. Rather than the deep gravely edge they used to have that made Louis shudder in the sweetest way, those groans festered into a terribly low pitch that struck anyone who heard them with instant dread.

Harry loved most to stake his ownership on Louis’ beautiful form, and now flipped him over to hurriedly begin uniting their bodies. That is yet another facet of their relationship that has changed. The vampire was most possessive with his sweet boy now that their love was forbidden but on-going nonetheless. He feared anyone with enough cunning ability can seek the means to pry them apart for the sake of their own gain.

He has long since mastered the contours and graceful curves of Louis’ body, immediately wasting no time in separating the warmth of his lover’s thighs so he may bask in his true belonging. Hands explored and bodies gyrated to the racing beat of their own hearts, Louis’ pleasured cries adding music to Harry’s ears. Firm hands held Louis’ supple skin so it responded with faint resilience. Harry’s pair of most prominent molars extended with the height of his pleasure, hips thrusting deep and precise to bury himself with apt strength. Ferocity that came from him would break anyone weaker than Louis, do more damage than rattling bones and stretching insides.  

Louis’ body was carved ages ago so Harry might have him, those lush planes of skin were tended to only by the vampire King. Skin that could not be marred except for Harry’s bite when he fed, gaining Louis’ essence in himself when he was inside Louis. His fangs pierce Louis’ skin where the taste is sweetest and any competitor might be warned off by the evident mark of claim. He moaned at the explosion of taste on his tongue, gripping Louis’ thighs so he might alter the angle.

Noises that blurred the domains of pain and pleasure filled the air above them, Louis’ nails digging into Harry’s arms so that he may bleed and his body thrashing about in search of a release. He heard himself begging through Harry’s wild bucks, each time choking on his own words because his lover slammed into him at exactly the right spot to render him thoughtless.

“I wish you’d take from me in return.” Harry said drunkenly, crimson painting his lips while Louis carefully orchestrated his position on the man’s thighs.

Louis laughed softly, and let his hand slip between them to grip Harry’s softening length. “Don’t I?”

Lips licked and eyes narrowed to slits, an unusual resemblance to the serpent, Harry hissed at the contact but did not protest. One of his earliest gifts were bestowed by the Master of Snakes, and he’d given Harry the efficient ability to call true and those rare shapeshifter snakes to his aid. In return, Harry now supported their house by himself carrying unsettling similarities to the reptile species.

For the first few weeks, Louis was cautious around Harry because shapeshifting snakes have been the most vicious enemy of the feys for centuries. He was the only one in Harry’s council who had that perspective to regard but was the one that the King was most concerned about. The first attempt on his life since the gift was thirty-two bullets lodged in nearly every bit of his flesh, and he hadn’t known that sharing genetics with the slithering creature meant his skin would shrivel and be peeled painfully off him to get rid of the scars. It was a sight that will haunt Louis forever.

“Take more.” Thin emerald streaks had replaced Harry’s normal eyes, and they peered up at him daringly. “I exist so you’ll have everything.”

Louis’ hand was brushed aside and his body was impaled on an engorged length that seemed to stop only after pushing his lover’s insides so that it may lay nestled in his tight heat. What little lube remained barely eased the stretch of Louis’ walls and he shuddered violently, already rolling his hips to take in more of the painful inches for his own.

“I love this.” He spoke with a tongue and focus possessed by the rushing, non-negotiable desire to take vast amounts of pleasure tailored to him by his insane lover.

Harry’s plump and swollen lips drag over the bend of Louis’ shoulder, nipping at the gloriously tanned exterior with his sharpest canines. A wet flick of his tongue ensures that that wound heals as well as he tastes the intoxicating abundance from where it is sweetest. His palms smoothed the damp arch of Louis’ back when his lover started to ride him with a greedy vigour. Skin slapped skin as Louis took Harry where was most intimate, biting on the vampire’s earlobe to stifle his moans.

“My fair warrior.” Harry praised his gorgeous other, prying his cheeks apart so he might bury himself deep enough for it to ache. He thrust upward and brought Louis’ legs around him as his hips bucked feverishly to fuck his Louis.

“Shh.” Louis was still so grounded to his siren routes that sometimes Harry swore he saw his favourite depiction of blue flicker to gold. The silky and seductive voice of a siren seeped into Louis’ tone. “I belong to you, my king. I’ll give you anything you desire.”

“Good.” Harry parted his lips and sank his teeth into Louis’ chest over the flesh where his heart rested. It’s one of his favourite places to draw blood from because it bordered on dangerous when he pierced the muscle, hearing little whimpers from Louis when his teeth met bone. He dropped Louis onto his back and pinned the legs of his partner open so he may feast on arousal as well as blood. “I _desire_ to pleasure you so thoroughly that you’re sore from my cock tomorrow when you go with Tye.”

Louis screamed and reached his end at the same moment that Harry did. He lay panting beneath his spent best friend and lover with glazed over eyes and a content look as he lightly scratched the healing bite wound on his pectoral.

“My, my. You do look like you enjoyed yourself.” Harry smirked proudly and snatched the covers in his fist to draw over their joined bodies. He snarled at a knock on the door. “You were told not to disturb me this night!”

The muffled answer came from one of Harry’s usual attendants. “I apologise, my King. I have a message from Arthur for you.”

“Fine.” Harry grunted in his hostile voice of a ruler. He separated from Louis so the boy may roll onto his front and try to summon sleep.

The other in his bed had his identity blocked from view but none but the painfully ignorant would not know that it was Louis who the King slept with every dawn before the sun came out. Louis had wanted to retire to his own room after their heated amorous activities but Harry confined him to this space with his pleading. He had most of his belongings in the room down the hall but Louis rarely spent any time there.

“Arthur wishes you to know that the visiting party tomorrow must be escorted to the castle grounds by guards of our own.” The messenger keeps their gaze to the toes of their boots. “The woods hide more than six hundred Weres, my King. It won’t be safe for the Elder’s family to travel through an avenue of enemies.”

Harry nodded and waved the attendant away so that he may return to his partially asleep Louis. The boy is yawning and stubborn when Harry tries to accommodate him on his chest. “I know you don’t like anyone who opposes your Weres.”

Louis felt a more solid body sidle up against him at his back and welcomes the solid safety that comes with it. He does hum and nips at the sinful jaw that’s carved like stone against his cheek. “I love my Weres but you know I don’t care for politics.”

This, none in their world could deny. Louis may turn down marriage proposals from his Weres but he did all he could to keep them appeased and away from unnecessary harm. The Were species were all male and all warriors that could best any army others trained in the thousands. Unlike those who had to learn battle, fighting was in a Were’s blood. Louis had found them homes in the woods outside Harry’s castle after they refused to share a shelter with bloodsuckers.

Now while the raging war between wolves and vampires have been brought to a truce, the Elder vampires thought their enemy to be filthy and beneath the dirt on their boots. Louis despised them for their arrogance and his fierce attitude towards their poor camaraderie has made Harry very proud. Weres are not the Immortal King’s foe and Harry offered them land as well as peace.

“You never did.” Harry reflects to the few days Louis passed time amongst his councils. The boy had been utterly aggravated by the end and could not run out fast enough.

Louis caught Harry’s wrist in his hold and turned around so he may throw a leg over the man’s hip, grinning in a sly manner. “Does Ana like politics?”

The King hisses as if burned by a red cursed flame at the mention of his wife. Neglect has turned her into nothing but a foul, greedy woman who scorned at Louis for stealing her husband – the irony made Louis laugh incessantly. She was bitter at the dinner table which Harry was obliged to sit at with her, although still trying to earn his favour. Louis always made himself scarce for those events for he did not want to witness the anger she stirred in Harry.

“She is the least of my concerns.” Harry seethes, rubbing Louis’ sides reverently when the steel shutters close on the vast windows in this room. Too many vampires resided in this castle to have the risk of sunlight being cast on one of them. “If it weren’t too soon to have her killed it would have been taken care of already.”

Louis doesn’t bat an eye at Harry’s blunt manner of speaking anymore. The new side to his saviour has long since been revealed to him and being crowned the Immortal leader only heightened his brutality.

“Perhaps.” He replies, sensing like a warm tenderness at his nape that the sun is rising. “Sleep now, my king.”

*    *    *    *    *

“My Lou.” Tye in all his breath-taking male beauty was most joyous to welcome Louis into a stubbornly platonic embrace as he met the boy outside the castle gates.

Louis had no guards with him except the protection of his deep navy cloak that concealed him from head to toe and trailed a bit on the ground. He was mounted on a stallion, Sovereign, that’s been his for centuries of being bound together by loyalty. Tye helped him down and hugged Louis before the advance could be refused.

Above them by thousands of miles the sun shone gloriously golden and baked the earth in something like the purest wonders to ever befall the creatures within it. No magic could overthrow the sheer natural power of the sun; not even an eclipse could manage it for longer than a few minutes. Louis felt the bright rays soak into his skin as he shed his cloak to let his bare arms and neck absorb the light. It’s always been something that helped him heal better than the night ever could, being born of one creature that bathed in sunlight.

Tye – born Tyerant – beams at him and had Louis’ eyes not been solely for his vampire King, it would be easy to admire this Were’s good looks. Bright violet eyes on a face combining a rigid square jaw, pointed chin and rounded lips made for a beautiful appearance. His skin was crisp in his light tan and endless deep brown hair that flowed to his waist, today tied up into a braid. The muscles on his arms and abdomen were fully matured and rippling with each step he took, wielding the progress from boy to man with elegant finesse. To conceal just his legs, Tye wore black leather pants but nothing more.

“Hi, Tye.” Louis returns the embrace without reluctance because the Were he held onto was his closest friend besides Harry and one other creature he has a bitter-sweet history with.

His arm is taken by the brooding man and Louis whistles to his steed so the horse knows their trip is over. “I made breakfast better than last time.”

Louis appreciates Tye’s efforts to let him set the pace, which was more than adequate to reach the humble cottage at the end of a short path through the trees. Those towering life forms hid amongst them the most frightful creatures to ever grace part of their land. Twinkling eyes in shades of bleeding red, stunning silver and blinding yellow start to appear through the eternal darkness that these woods had regardless of the sun. Louis understood why vampires trembled to travel through.

That is, until the beasts to which those unsettling orbs belong creep out of the prickly bushes and Louis sees his most lovely Weres come into view one by one. They’re glad to see him too because Tye is stopped by a stiff hand that’s still switching back from wolf ancestor to man. Angus is grinning charmingly when he and his entirely naked body wrap Louis up in a warrior’s hug that squeezes his victim.

“Your hugs are one day going to make me an addict.” Louis further messes up Angus’ dreadfully straight hair and kisses his forehead as is customary in shows of affection between the human sides of wolves.

Angus’ spell-binding grey eyes meet Louis’ gaze in a display of unhindered excitement. Wolves were very fond creatures and were always ecstatic when they were huddled together. “That is my intention, my Lou.”

Either to mock their situation or get in endless attempts at showing off the fact that Louis favoured the wolves most, all his Weres addressed him as ‘my Lou’ instead of ‘my Lord’.

Tye manages to get Louis back on the ground but there’s a horde of mountainous men awaiting their turn to greet the beauty amongst them. Each one who was present got a hug and was allowed to lay their lips on Louis’ temple or cheek, none but Tye’s older brother Torement took special liberties to graze his lips.

Torement, with his scarred features and deathly black eyes that swallowed all the light exposed to it. A horrific healed gash ran from Tore’s hairline down the side of his face and across his lip to the opposite jaw. The white bone hidden by a single layer of skin from what was once a stunning skeletal structure now showed in stark comparison to his olive tanned skin.

The most vengeful amidst all the Weres and he who treaded the line between life or death more than anyone deserves to, Torement was twice Louis’ age and exceedingly provocative in a sinister, spine-chilling way. He was the one Louis found and helped escape from the bloody talons of witches in the North which bound them together in a way that put most ties to shame.

“Hey.” Louis stuttered, squeaking when his feet leave the dirt floor and he’s left to hook his legs on Tore’s hips. Such acts were nothing more than acceptable in the eyes of all breeds of wolf.

“Would you be here to warn us off from attacking the leeches tonight?” Tore grunted with a distasteful snarl curling his cut-up lips.

Louis shook his head, his unease slipping away like a passing storm. “You were going to?”

Tore’s eyes shimmered, sadistic. “We don’t do anything that would make you displeased even if the undead King urges my skin to crave the agony of fire.”

“Don’t say that.” Louis patted Tore’s bare, inked chest and sniggered. “He doesn’t hate you in return.”

“That is a lie and we both know it, my Lou.” Tore’s torso erupted in a bout of purrs when Louis kept petting that toughened exterior of his. “You aren’t going to stop that, are you?”

Louis’ the only one he asked for little favours like this from; petting any part of him that is nude and brushing through his hair were such treats. It was far from one-sided seeing as Louis took as much comfort and reassurance from the deeds as his Weres.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Louis kept running his hands and curled fingers over miscellaneous parts of Tore’s bared upper body. He knew that reaching the ground now soon was merely a dream until Tore deemed his inner animal at peace.

“My little brother’s gift awaits. We should be on our way.” Tore got Louis comfortable on his back with a complete fluid motion that is impossible to accomplish by any other Immortal. Louis crosses his ankles at his broad companion’s front and keeps up his soothing caresses while the others disperse back into the woods. “Lead the way, Tyerant.”

The younger Were soldier did a little bow to his elder, no displeasure depicted in his stance or gaze, before turning on his heel to stomp through the awaiting trees and shrubbery. Louis knew perfectly well how to navigate this territory but being on the back of Tore in a region crawling with his most reliable beasts made him feel secure.

Trees of all kinds and shapes seemed to accompany them on this short quest, their roots buried deep and offering more than slight hurdles in their wake. Tiny animals scurry about trying about the heavy footing that could crush them with no remorse, furs and feathers flocking to safety from the scent of prowling wolf. Somewhere overhead there were hisses from snakes and mutated anomalies similar to them, their focus transfixed on this slight party.

Tore was swift and agile in his steps despite his hulking size. He climbed over logs and knocked aside those sharper blades of plant leaves that could cut Louis. Fingers remained hooked under Louis’ thighs to keep him fastened where there is no running from, taking great pride in indulging their petite Lord on their way. Louis braided his hair until the length ceased at his shoulderblades, and followed that up with innocently nuzzling the man’s throat where he could protect the jugular.

“You taunt me from there, my Lou.” Tore arched his neck but did not waver from where they’re being led, allowing Louis more skin to do with as he pleased. “Mark me as you please but don’t imagine that I enjoy suspense.”

Louis smiled and lightly pecked the Were’s thumping pulse. “My apologies.”

Before Torement can amuse Louis with his remark that lacks favourable wit that makes him who he is in speech, Tyerant seeks to intervene. He takes up a spot right beside them and reaches out to brush Louis’ arm with his calloused knuckles. “We’re nearly there.”

“Are you going to tell me what it is?” Louis straightens his back when they stop at a river’s edge.

Tye gets Louis off Tore’s height and back on his feet, watching intently as the boy stretches and pushes hair out of his eyes. Their Lord was unworldly in his recognised beauty but also within that physical appeal throbbed the heart of a hybrid not to be underestimated. The power Louis has yet to claim, his steely approach to all things critical and his magnificent protectiveness over a horde of beasts that came to him is what makes him desirable in their eyes.

“A gift.” Tye smirks when Louis climbs up on a boulder to keep Torement from pursuing him further when he’s not ready to move again.

“Can I have a clue please?” It did something uncharacteristically arousing to the taut strings holding most of any Were together to hear Louis say please when he’s the only one who doesn’t have to.

“Tell him, Tye.” Torement commanded in a voice that left no room for argument, even when Tyerant snapped at him for daring to speak so rudely. It was common for Weres to fight when such behaviour was doled out.

Tyerant settled with a growl emanating from his deepest depths, leaving his voice to sound bristle and harsh. “You heard of Torquay?”

“The town by the sea?” Louis’ eyes grew wide with shock and expectation.

Torquay and the ocean it neighboured rested a fair distance away from them and was populated solely by the mer-people. He’s been there twice with Harry to escape the restrictions and frustrations of being Immortal royalty. Heat threatened to flood his cheeks at the scandalous memory of being with Harry intimately in the sea hidden by an island of rocks and almost caught by a wandering mermaid.

“Indeed.” Tye sent a few pebbles skittering across the river’s surface. “They’ve found a minotaur aboard an abandoned ship and sent word for you.”

“Me?” Louis frowned. He has connections to many of the supernatural but not the minotaurs who were the rarest and most volatile kind.

“Aye.” Tore confirms his brother’s statements with an assuring nod. He leans back against the rock Louis’ mounted and crosses his bulky arms over his chest. “The mer’s have asked for your aid as soon as you can give it and Tye thought it would be an opportunity to exercise a talent of yours that hasn’t been flexed in decades.”

Louis folds his legs up to his front and his creased brow does not loosen although proud of his memories they refer to. He possesses his mother’s endearing but dangerous trait of taming the monsters that were beyond command from others. The downfall of such skill made it so that those tamed by who can control them, is very susceptible to being bound to them. Although just having brought one creature under his total protection – a shapeshifting leopard that’s the last of his kind and Louis found castrated by a clan of ignorant ghouls – Louis has not tried to soften another lost soul.

His leopard had accidentally bonded with him some time ago and had to leave temporarily to see if the connection could be severed. There was no such luck and each day Louis felt the absence of his bonded mate like diamonds in a gaping would that sliced his flesh every hour. Nothing intimate occurred between them besides unyielding commitment from both sides, thus forming a bond that Louis regrets resenting.

“I can’t risk it.” Louis shakes his head, rubbing his clammy palms along the smooth rock and missing his leopard so ardently now that he’s been reminded. “If what happened with Vlad happens again I- I won’t be able to give him what he’ll want.”

“Your leopard was searching for someone to bond with for as long as any of us has been alive.” Tore meekly gestures to their small gathering, gaze stern. “Minotaurs are strangely independent beasts who, if bonded to you, will have the same restraints as us all.”

Tye nods in agreement. “Vlad has learned to live with you like we all have. The minotaur will do so as well.”

Louis sighed, suddenly exhausted in both body and mind. What was a little self-sacrifice? Especially if it meant a minotaur could be rescued from internal turmoil that can, as it has in the past, grown to be so overwhelming that it can be likened to a devil residing in your most sensitive cavity and ripping through your innards until ‘broken mind’ is no longer an apt description.

“Okay.” He acquiesces with a shaky smile to reassure himself, accepting when Tye offers his arm in aid to hop down from the rock. “I will go see the minotaur. What’s his name?”

“Elijah.” Tye replies in recollection of the letter he’d received. He got Louis to the flowing water’s borderline edge before bending down and scooping him up in a fireman’s carry.

Louis would have argued relentlessly when he was new to the behaviour and tendencies of the Weres when it approached the subject of overprotectiveness, but that has since waned. He waited for the water barrier to be surpassed and then put down again, stepping to the side so he may create some distance. His thoughts are taking him back impulsively to his memory of Vlad and can feel a slight ache from where the leopard’s bond to him is being visualised. Somewhere far away the leopard knows he’s being thought of and is most pleased.

“This was a bad idea.” Tore grabs Louis’ hand after their Lord’s distracted mind led him to wander off twice in a short while. He disapprovingly shakes his head as he backs Louis up against a tree’s lumbering trunk and picks him up without strain. “Letting you use these lovely legs of yours all by yourself. Criminal, I say.”

The one repositioned on Tore’s back does little more than burrow into the Were’s warmth, scared for an entirely new reason and needing those of his kind to reassure him. “What’s he like?”

Tye doesn’t bat an eye at the question and the impending sound of civilisation is within their reach now. “Elijah? I’m afraid I know little. He needs you though, there is no doubt about that.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“He took out the men sent to retrieve him from the ship. Left the town in fear and rocked to the core when they saw some of their finest hanging from the sails, insides chewed out. He’s still on that ship.”

“How do they know anything about him?” Louis tried not to think about meeting such a gruesome end after a life of hurting no one but in defence.

Tye held the last group of tall leaves apart so Tore may stalk through them, shrugging when Louis comes into view as well. They’re reached the town’s end where few houses were nestled against the neglected fence and children with shimmery skin race about playing games. “One of the mermen first sent to the ship got back, although not in one piece.”

Louis takes it all in and hops off Tore’s back so he can feel the breeze more explicitly against his skin, can taste the salt on his tongue and find reason to recollect only his positive memories. He brought Vlad here once when the leopard was feeling especially depressed about something he didn’t share with Louis until they got into the water and only laughter peeled from the otherwise cautious creature. Harry had come to Torquay and bought Louis an abundance of flowers in every colour imaginable, adding colour to the night they’d come during.

He picked one odd purple rose from the side-lines now and tucked it into his pocket.

They walked through the town and weaved around its gorgeous residents. Homes and small businesses were built from brick and wood, depicting evident advancements over the village Louis came from. Market stalls were buzzing with customers and rowdy children who ran between sand and sea, giggling to themselves as they busied themselves. The water glistened on their figures like it did with the adults coming to land after dousing their addiction to the ocean with satiation.

“Over here.” Louis was ushered into a grass hut closest to the oncoming waves and looks about him at the odd inner décor.

Shells belonging to the sea hung from the ceiling as well as formed part of the tiled floor. Instead of a solid door there was a curtain of sea glass and crystals, figurines made of the same material being shown off at the windows. The main attraction was the woman of sheer grace and unharnessed good looks. Her facial structure was elegantly crafted from fine, firm bones that highlighted her humble brown eyes. The figure she had stood true to the legend of mermaid fineness, slender and muscular in the slightest ways. Like all mer-people who was in the privacy of their home, she was completely nude and unalarmed by her visitors.

Louis had Tore crowding his back and unknowingly caught hold of the man’s wrist at his side, greeting their host with a little smile. “Hey Sylvia. How’s it going?”

The mermaid answered with a stunning grin and stepped closer to hug Louis as is most hospitable. “Great but you’re quite shaken, my Lord.”

Tye speaks up when Louis doesn’t. “He knows why he’s here, Sylvia.”

With a sigh and brief glance at the Weres in her home, Sylvia deems it worthless to stall time because she was afraid of getting into the zone barricaded off by their own men. No one was to set foot in that water until after the raging beast had been tamed or the whole ship burned to nothing but pollution.

“Let’s go then.” She turns stiff as a pole and brushes briskly past them on her way outside. “I don’t want to do this so any time wasted will tempt me to abandon the task.”

Before them the ocean stood sneering at land animal’s inability to defeat the wildness that came with crashing waves and seeping shores. Louis always loved the water but now, staring out beyond at the stationary monstrosity that is a ship of deceased pirates, built from solid wood and carved steel at the front where its name was scratched away with time. There were no bellowing remains for him to see and the reason he documented was no more settling.

Against the calm sea this shadowing structure was a dark presence where only picturesque silhouettes were allowed. It intruded on the fine picture and will not budge.

“Can you swim?” Louis asked the brothers who accompanied him here, not prying his focus away from their intended destination. His heart hammered and the inextensible string tying his bond to Vlad was straining, the connection he had to Harry also suffering a fierce blow.

“We’re taking the boat.” Sylvia says without hesitation, chewing her lip. “Come.”

The boat they took paled in every aspect when compared to the regal ship they’re approaching. Louis had barely enough time to anchor himself or think of anything other than the dead mermen, the threat this uncontrollable force of nature posed to a harmless population should it venture beyond these confines. Standing broad and intimating like the tallest stone in a cemetery, Louis sensed no fear from his Weres but a distance away and deep in sleep, Harry sent to him feelings of calm and affection.

_My fair warrior._

It was whispered along with the wind and Louis breathed in deep, drawing all the reassurance that came with the words. He was no longer afraid.

“Was it a good idea to come without more guards?” Sylvia asked shakily, worrying the nail of her thumb as she idled the boat.

“Yeah.” Louis replied simply, taking on the persona that allowed him to handle the Weres at the toughest times and settle fierce disputes. It made both Torement and Tyerant smile privately to hear that familiar and desirable tone of voice come from their lovely Lord. “More men will think we’re threatening him. I don’t handle things that way because we don’t want him hostile.”

Louis goes up the unreliable rope ladder first after demanding it and reaches the peak soon after commencing his climb. He wipes his hands of the grime from the wooden planks on his pants and turns his head to look about him, taking in the dangling ropes and shattered captain’s wheel. A stench hung above them that radiated off the smeared brown and red stains on the waxed floor, making the soles of Louis’ shoes sticky.

“Don’t.” He pushed Tore away when the Were tried to get on board, an undeniable urge getting him to look straight at the door to the cabins that hung lifelessly off its hinges. “Come only if I call you.”

Tore had to obey but he hated the instruction and fisted his palms until his knuckles turned white. “Are you sure?”

Louis nodded bravely and pause to kiss Tore’s forehead, a departing gesture. He leaves the Were staring after him filled with concern from letting their Lord go into a dangerous situation without protection. To silence them all and drag a paralyzing hush over their fears, the thundering steps of hooves on hard wood flooring that’s hollow beneath emanates from the darkness behind the door.

There’s nothing but Louis’ special breed of courage in the breeze now, overpowering even the saltiness of the rocky ocean. Tore lifts his eyes and his vision absorbs the enticing challenge that comes out of the cabin’s dusk.

The minotaur appears out of the black abyss and stands tall, fearsome before the arriving individuals, one of whom imposed on his territory. Beady black eyes darted between Louis and Tore but remained still, his tight and abnormally muscular chest heaved in pants quicker by the second. His skin was dark from being under the sun too long, and red from exertion or burst blood vessels at his biceps and thighs. Tatty rags covered his pelvic region to allow him some decency.

Two horns of stiff bone protruded from the minotaur’s forehead, ending it deadly pointed tips that were stained bloody and carried some dried chunks of entrails. Hooves replaced human feet but his arms were nothing otherworldly, facial hair that concealed his chiselled jaw and malnourished hollow cheeks. Louis felt pity for this creature more than fear.

Minotaurs were lonely creatures not raised in groups and taught a great many things, living short lives unless taken under the care of an Immortal. Louis looked at him and saw so much misery in just one body that his heart cracked. The ability to sense feelings when they were great enough at the moment of detection was one inherited from his mother as well, and now he shared in the pain she must have had when facing a lost creature.

Eyes followed him as he involuntarily stepped forward but the minotaur did not charge, merely observed with unease while Tore behind Louis looked ready to erupt. “Hi.”

A nearly inaudible growl came from the Were at his back but Louis kept on. He knew of their worry and could feel it in his abdomen like a clenching fist around his core but he isn’t here for them. He is here on this wrecked ship for the minotaur that’s tilted its head and started looking at Louis’ unaggressive approach in question.

The vacancy in the minotaur’s eyes made Louis’ lip tremble, his empathy burdening him the way it did his mother. Being so lost and feeling it as a genuine loss in an undeserving soul’s heart was gut-wrenching. “I’m not here to harm you. You know that, don’t you?”

Something flickered in pitch black irises and Louis knows his gamble was well worth it.

He smiles kindly and speaks up again, observing the beast’s slowly cooling temper; slowly by a measure of dripping honey on sandpaper wallpaper. “What’s your name?”

Elijah opened his mouth on impulse but stopped his tongue at the second he realised he had, and frowned to himself like he could not explain why he was so willing with this stranger. His booming, unpleasant gruffness echoed through the ship’s construct. “Leave.”

“I will.” Louis replies truthfully and the blue of his eyes turn to magical whirlpools that almost tempt this assailant to come closer. “Can I come back tomorrow?”

His smiling lips are undeniable and the minotaur remains quiet, drawn to something within this visitor he cannot place. The ancient comfort that never wanes from the depths of Louis’ kind and his mother’s kind before him has yet to prove weak. It grasped the attention of whoever was being focused on and tempted them into obeying such kind, wilful eyes of its host. It was easy to reject as well because this power was pure and nurtured only by delicacy, but not so easily disregarded by those wild beasts who sought beyond reason a protector.

“I’m here because you need me. My help.” Louis maintained his easy appearance and watched the minotaur’s eyes flittering to everything surrounding them, his attitude remarkable displeased. He knew why.

Elijah looks once again at Louis, his hairier than otherwise seen arms falling limply to his sides. It could be safe to expect such coarse animal hair growing in a thick path down the minotaur’s back from scalp to hips. Louis breathes in deeply and regrets it when all that reaches his lungs is a decaying odour.

“Did you mean to frighten these people?” He gauges the faintest of twitches on his companion’s lips but not to smile. “I don’t think you meant it, but you did and now they’re scared.”

“Weak.” The creature’s voice has dropped several decibels to a haunting echo that does not at all sound like it was supposed to have sound.

“Aye.” Louis’ amusement is genuine and it makes light of something horrific in the minotaur’s emotions. He’s proud to have made the boy laugh enough for his eyes to crinkle and his perfect little teeth come into view. “They could be weak but not when there’s a threat to their kind. All their leader has to do is ask for aid from the King and this ship is torched for all to see.”

The other says nothing and Louis sighs.

“I won’t let that happen for as long as I can.” He speaks the absolute truth and the minotaur is surprised that another being cares enough to risk anything for him. Louis watches the whites return to his eyes. “Come with me and I can protect you.”

 

A pale but skilled hand reaches into Louis’ pocket and the monster reels with the threat of a weapon, roaring at the top of his lungs before stepping forward. He pauses when a purple rose comes into sight.

“For you.” Louis sets it down on the floor, kneeling to do so and making the minotaur regretful about the state of his abode. The rose touches ground and Louis turns away to leave, trusting the minotaur not to harm him.

“Elijah.” The minotaur grunts, still coarse in his manner and untrusting but nonetheless curious. He stares at the gift rose before looking at the silhouette of the giver, wanting to keep both desirables. “Tomorrow. You come.”

Louis is trembling once again when he heaves his weight over the banister and is completely at the mercy of Tore’s arms keeping him upright. He swallows thickly and nods so it’s visible as they descend back into the boat.

*    *    *    *    *

He’s lying beneath a layer of bubbly foam in the most horrendous tub to ever be carved for the King, scrubbing incessantly at his body until the skin is bright red. Louis’ fear has subsided just as his bravery took a plunge immediately after leaving the minotaur, feeling the separation like an ice pick to the chest. Taming was extraordinary to witness and for Louis, true magic at work. He just never thought he’d the wielder of said magic.

Bringing the minotaur into his care makes him responsible for two others besides his Weres and Louis knows that isn’t enough to broach the topic of ‘too much’ but finally fitting the boots his parents intended for him, has him shaken. Is this the life they led together and apart? Were they responsible for so many lives without being resentful?

Louis’ parents were legends and nobody in their land had never heard their names or his for that matter. He realises that his parents were selfless enough to help those weaker than them and ignored the threat to their own sanity because if one can aid, one must. There is no disgracing their legacy by growing to be fickle and self-centred now.

With new iron resolve, Louis climbs out of the tub and dares to look at his dripping reflection. The evidence of his combat skill lies in his deceivingly petite muscle build, enough toughness within and without to harness the correct combination of his parents. He could sometimes see them in the mirror before he wiped away the misted surface, blushed at them smiling at him because even if he saw himself as a coward they were proud of him based on his actions.

The air is chilly in Harry’s room, just like all sleeping vampires prefer it, and Louis breaks out in goosebumps instantly when he enters. Lying still – dead – beneath the covers in the same position that Louis left him, Harry is resting without the rise of his chest or twitch of his fingers. His unworldly handsomeness has fallen to what a corpse looks like, waxy and awfully pale. The curse of any vampire: to truly die within the daylight hours.

Louis kisses Harry’s rubbery cheek and gets in under his rock solid arm, feeling no response as he closes his eyes.

*    *    *    *    *

“How many hours did you acquire this time?” Harry caught Louis’ hand and didn’t ask the boy to turn around just yet, bringing his lips to the smooth expanse of skin available to me.

They were both awake by the time night fell over the castle so darkness brought to life the riveting power previously asleep. Louis breathed better at night when he was better suited to the circumstances.

“Six.” He answered wryly, yawning as he stretched under Harry’s rough palms. They skimmed over his sides and slowed upon reaching his hip.

“You were distressed today.” The King’s concern is evident when he speaks to the risen hairs on Louis’ nape, thumb brushing back and forth on the boy’s thigh. “I felt you reach out to me in my sleep.”

Louis unleashed his bravery again like a capsulated secret weapon and flipped over, putting Harry on his back forcefully enough to elicit a hiss from the King. Smugly, his lover claimed a kiss from those exposed fangs and sat up straddling Harry’s ribbed torso. He could not defeat Harry in a fight if it were fair so Louis made sure to act when their conditions were exactly opposite.

“There’s a minotaur floating on the mer’s sea.” Louis pushes his fringe back and rests against his king’s knees.

Harry’s shameless hands glided over and around a fine set of hips to grip possessively the most praiseworthy behind. He pushed no further. “Did you go to him today?”

“Yes.” Louis gathered some of the painfully satisfying silk sheets to his chest. “He’s not as bad as Vlad was but I- Oh don’t look at me like that.”

To remark casually that the Immortal King despised Vlad would not do the emotion justice. It must be carved in flesh and rung up a flagpole high enough for every being with eyes to behold. Harry would have gutted the leopard had he been allowed to by Louis, dishing out an inadequate punishment for the foul thing having stolen from him _any_ part of his sweet lover.

“Hey.” Louis slapped Harry out of his reverie about not having Vlad breathing anymore, his eyes ablaze with hurt and offence. “We’ve been over this.”

“I remember.” Harry flexed his jaw and gritted his teeth, sounding more serpent than vampire once again. “I will not hurt your cat and you will be in his bed after every night with me.”

Louis knew of Harry’s jealousy and wished it didn’t exist, especially not in such a frightfully powerful manner. He had to be with Vlad even to just share a bed so their bodies might be near to one another, reassuring their bond of commitment. The leopard’s company was something to look forward to as well and Louis did not regret a moment of it.

The shutters peeled back over the windows and moonlight was cast over them, showing Louis off as the only one with a beating heart between them.

“He returns tomorrow night.” Harry watches carefully as Louis nods and pulls him up by his neck, connecting their lips to subdue a growl from the King.

“Shh.” Louis slaps him again, lighter this time. He squeals and breaks into abominably beautiful laughter when he’s thrown back onto the sheets, his body cloaked by a broader one.

“Say it.” Harry turns Louis onto his front so he may have unlimited access to the entrance he craves like hellfire. He snarls when no response comes. _“Say it.”_

Louis gets up on all fours and even arches perfectly, wiggling his pert bottom but only screams when poorly lubricated fingers penetrate him. “Careful!”

“I don’t think so.” Harry immediately starts pumping his fingers with a vengeance, scissoring them to speed up the process. He bends over Louis’ curved back and tugs him backwards onto his lap, other hand in the boy’s hair. “You’re going to make me beg?”

Louis’ knees are knocked apart and he whimpers at the rough entry of Harry’s cock shoving into him, eyes slipping shut when ecstasy overrules pain. He makes the King bleed by scratching his arms before clenching deliciously around the familiar length, memorising its veiny girth within him where it belongs. Toes curled and skin tingling, Louis takes the first thrust like a virgin. He jerks with the hard rhythm being set and cries out with each bracing, harsh blow to his most sensitive spot.

“I love you.” Louis angles his head into the crook of Harry’s neck, shuddering at the tugs and flicks to his nipples. He can’t contend with the strength of the arm holding him still to withstand the delicious torture. “I love you. _I love you- Oh!_ Harry.”

Onward and upward Louis thrust towards his climax with a steady pounding of his body from one much larger than he. His blood sings the way sirens’ do when most aroused and a scream barrels outward when white explodes his vision, his orgasm being clouded by the teeth puncturing his artery. Pleasure laces his insides as his front becomes sticky with sweat and his release, exhaustion leading to his tumble forward. Pulling out from the glorious wet heat of his lover, Harry fists his purpled length above the small of Louis’ back and revels in the sight of his come landing on flushed skin.

“You still haven’t said it.” Harry was more at ease now and licked the sweet metallic remnants from his lips.

Louis hums contentedly when warm hands, calloused in the same familiar ways, begin to massage his back where he lay motionless. Legs splayed open with Harry between them working intently to work his come into Louis’ skin to scent him – a more common act between wolves.

“Saying I loved you with my legs spread isn’t enough for you?” Louis breathed, arching into Harry’s touch wherever it wandered off to.

The King’s grin was confident and prideful as he took in his immaculate work on Louis’ back and thighs. “What will you be up to this night?”

“I’m going with the guard to escort the Marquis and his people.” Louis replied, grumbling unintelligibly when Harry stops caressing him. “Then I’m going to help some of the new ones with their training.”

Harry cocked an eyebrow at Louis’ latter proposition. “You know that you will be attending their welcoming masquerade.”

“Do I have to?” Louis’ tone was complaining.

He loathed the petty vampire celebrations and when covens got together, he was tempted to set fire to all their silly outfits. If it weren’t for the prodding and persistence of some amongst the clans of younger vampires, Louis might consider tolerating their parties. Being who he is, everyone seems to want a piece of his favour or hated him with such passion that it poisoned the air with tension. The last ball Harry asked Louis to attend had him asking for milk in a bottle intended for new-borns. After the fourth elder vampire picked at his clothes and her descendant tried cornering him on the balcony, Louis walked around with a Browning in one hand and his milk bottle in the other.

“Yes.” Harry was not even angry, only amused, at his lover’s antics during their last public gathering. It was endearing to watch Louis cock his gun every time someone approached him or glare at the foreign princes who tried to hold his hand.

“Too bad.” Louis threw a pillow at Harry and rolled off the bed, barely getting two feet before he’s tackled.

An instinct much like his body’s adoring reaction to the sun on his skin, Louis knees Harry’s ribcage and falls with him when the King’s arm cages his neck. Kicking backwards with all his force, Louis gains some room to turn over. Arms capture his middle to toss him where he’s needed but Louis jerks his head back, hearing a sickening crack of the King’s broken nose. He drops and swings his leg to trip Harry, crawling back onto the vampire’s shaking form.

“Yield.” He flicks Harry’s healed nose and giggles along with his victim’s roaring laughter.

A King forfeits only when he’s dead, is what Harry lives by. He bends his knees and thrusts his weight upward to put Louis on his back, the vampire now having the advantage. Arms pinned and swollen lips kissed shamelessly, Louis huffs from his silly defeat.

“Nah uh.” Harry makes a condescending tsk sound at Louis’ retaliation. “This fight is over.”

Louis bares his teeth, fiercely reminding Harry of the boy he saved from Gentry and had to work his every nerve to befriend. Resignation does not come easy to such a spirit as Louis.

“There’s my boy.” The King smiles down at Louis’ impending pout, kissing him deeply and suspending time for a short while. “You’re going to kick me if I take you again, aren’t you?”

Although the snarl did not fall away, Louis fought to keep Harry away from initiating sex again for mere pride’s sake. He never fought to win but Harry always knew which triggers to pressure within him after harmless battles like theirs. The King was impossible to deny and Louis mewled with throbbing insides, sharp nails clawing at the back of his victor when he was taken again.

He wanted to be fucked but would never admit it at such a time. Louis snapped whenever Harry tried to kiss him however, not in the mood to turn that mellow yet. The King did not appreciate his rejection, thus speeding up his thrusts until it was sure to hurt each time his girth hooked behind Louis’ quivering pelvic bone. He growled into Louis’ ear as warning before sinking his fangs into the boy’s shoulder, holding him down so he may feed in peace.

“Fuck- _Damn it, Louis.”_ Harry was hissing again after they finished but this time it was from pain, the deep gashes down his back being nothing playful.

Louis lay back on the rug and grinned like the cat that got the cream after decades of waiting. He was high on their sex and couldn’t care less for the King’s complaints. “Don’t be dramatic.”

His skin was knitting back together and Louis kept Harry on his front, awaiting the moment he could rip off the shedding skin. The King was always going to heal but Louis made sure it hurt first. “You’re coming to the masquerade if it means I have to carry you in there.”

“I’m not going but you’re welcome to try.” Louis got up and went into the bathroom shortly before Harry could follow behind demanding attention.

*    *   *    *    *

“Open the gates!” One of guardsmen on the ground shouted for the grand steel grated-gates to be drawn upward so the men can ride out to retrieve the Marquis’ party.

There are sixteen of them, all from Harry’s elite personal guard in their polished black armour mounted on their fastest horses. Louis kept his cloak on so the chill in the air can be kept out. The velvet drapery concealed him entirely and rested over the back of his stallion. He felt no need to be heavily armed but nonetheless carried enough from his armoury to handle possible threats.

Leather holsters held firearms at his hip and at his back while sheaths of the same material housed custom blades along his arms. His oldest sword from the darkest time in his life, stolen from a demon warrior, was tied to his the saddle his sat on. Harry stood on his balcony just beyond the door of his bedroom, upper body bared and arms spread out on the palisade. He nods in Louis’ direction, fingers at his lips but waiting for acknowledgement from the latter before sending them out. Louis laughs to himself before tugging on Sovereign’s reins so that he picks his forelegs off the ground, responding to Harry’s motion in a most apparent way.

A whistle from the King and the guards take off through the gate at a gallop, sprinting through the open field just outside the castle before entering the woods. No hesitation is witnessed from the bravest of the vampire warriors as they sweep through the trees and create their own storm of horse hooves crushing whatever was beneath them. Louis smelt the moss and damp mist that hung like cotton over the highest trees. Nature at its finest.

“Here!” They stopped after riding for twenty minutes through nothing but blackness laden with creeping entities.

Louis brought Sovereign to a halt at the head of their security party and let the steed trot in a circle to calm his trembling muscles. He licked his lips and let the hood of his cloak fall onto his shoulders, watching in rapt nervousness as a beautiful carriage carved from oak and painted navy, metal railings shimmering under the moon comes towards them. Two are in a row as they cross the bridge, spindle wheels rolling at ease under the guidance of its driver and speed of six mares each.

A quick inspection of the carriages reveal that the guests are who Harry is expecting and no one who dared to intercept their route. Formation is made around the two travelling carriages and Louis is at the back to round off their company. He pushes the sides of his cloak over his shoulders to allow easy access to his weapons.

His head whips around when howls ensue from within the trees and rattle off between the vampires in this narrow pathway. Darkness seems to overshadow them at this point and turn into terrifying fragments of nightmares where it was reflected on the dirt. Louis shook his head with a smile teasing his lips when the howls grow louder, closer.

“Relax, boys.” He tells the unsettled guards and urges them onward, masking his giggle poorly when a set of grey eyes wink at him from the bushes. “Let’s get some speed up there!”

They make it safely to the open meadow and into the field of tall grass. The guards and carriage drivers pick up the pace to reach the gates sooner, spooked by the lurking Weres in the forest. Louis is just about to go with them into the safety of clear ground when a large, meaty hand grabs Sovereign’s neck and draws them to a halt.

“Damn it, Tore.” Louis had drawn his gun before thinking and waited for his racing heart to relax before slotting it back home.

The Were was tall enough to reach Louis without straining even if mounted on his ride. Tore had something coating the usual calm that his grey eyes housed, urgency. He didn’t wait to explain before leading Sovereign to turn around back into the woods.

“They’re burning it.” Tore pointed to the sky where smoke rose to amongst an orange pit that set a glow over everything in sight.

The mer’s had grown impatient and too afraid. His minotaur was going to be up in flames if he wasn’t saved. Louis was pushing Sovereign into a run before saying anything, his heart echoing the gallop of the horse’s legs slamming into weaker objects. He feels dread like a clawed hand around his throat, twisting and prying the longer he took to get to his beast.

Tore was with him even if Louis could not see him. Tearing through the forest was his dutiful Were, completely shifted to his other form. Sovereign leaped over a log and landed in the river with a splash, urged to fly more than race as they neared Torquay. Louis was feeling no remorse when he plunged right into the city centre and people had to dodge his horse’s stampeding body or risk losing a limb. He trampled over sand and rock, feeling the heat of the ablaze ship like it extended outward from within him.

There was one thing he saw and it was in the eye of an unforgiving crowd presently. Louis let Sovereign get him onto the beach and push aside bystanders so he could reach the origin of the worst cries he’s ever heard. The minotaur had gotten to the shore and was not intending to harm anyone again. It roared from the agony of whips at its back and ropes around its neck, being pulled and sliced at every angle.

“Stop!” Louis nearly fell off Sovereign in his haste and unhooked one blade to bury in the merman’s neck when he was almost prevented from reaching Elijah. “Don’t hurt him! He’s _mine._ For God’s sake, stop!”

He shoved past the fighters trying to keep him at bay and watched Elijah fall to his bloody knees seconds before Louis gets there. The beast is alive and that’s what quells Louis’ escalating rage most, knowing that he can nurse the animal back to health. Like a voice in his head that his mother also had, Louis knows to get out a blade and cut through the ropes at Elijah’s bulging neck. The minotaur collapses and takes Louis with him, resting his head on the boy’s lap as he bled onto the sand.

“You’re okay now.” Louis stripped off his cloak and spread it out over Elijah’s shivering body, something unknown but _ferocious_ rising to light when he takes in the state of the minotaur’s forehead.

His horns were not there, the pride of this creature’s existence was ripped off because it was partially under Louis’ claim and would not fight back. A horrid sound clawed its way up Louis’ throat and he realised he was crying, tears flowing freely as little else besides pain blossomed like bleeding roses in his mind.

He brushed the minotaur’s hollow cheek and kissed his forehead, smiling at those dependant black eyes like a brother, a friend. No one could predict his effect on the minotaur would be soon and sudden, as Vlad had taken days to trust Louis. Whether his power grew or this creature saw Louis instantly as one that can be trusted, they were both just grateful to be safe now.

Weres have infiltrated the crowd and continually drew the barrier between their Lord and the civilian mer’s further away. None were to approach the recovering pair on the sand, especially when Louis is just ascending to normalcy from his power low. Grief that was almost summoned upon a sour probability of losing the minotaur he just met and coddled, was terrifying.

“I clean.” The shockingly crotchety, albeit healing throat of Elijah struggled in rags to speak. He coughed up blood and needed shushing from Louis every time he arched to escape the residual sting of whips on his back.

Louis scrubbed at his cheeks with the backs of his hands, removing the wetness. His brows drew close in confusion. “What?”

Elijah doubled over and hacked up small goblets of tissue that’s been discarded by his body as it knits itself together under Louis’ care. “The sh-ship. I clean.”

“Oh.” His protector stops frowning and smiles brightly, petting that region of Elijah that swell with satisfaction. Louis looked out at the boundless ocean that causes the ebbing flames on the dregs of a sea queen to bob aimlessly as it turned to ash. “Why did you clean the ship?”

“You.” Elijah spoke from the heart and with no express emotion to sweeten his words. Minotaurs were plain and dreary, but always honest.

Louis felt his bloodiest organ mimic a stifled rifle going off numerous times, blowing heads off and bringing leaders to their knees. He gasped from the impact of Elijah’s words on his slight ego, likening it to sandpaper on the coarsest material. The beast had gone against primal nature to tidy the ship he tore apart days before, to impress the protector Louis represented for him. Before the one holding him up and supporting his neck can respond in a choked statement of gratitude, Elijah falls unconscious.

Commotion ensues again from the onlookers standing on sand that Louis wishes would turn to glass pieces, melting shards to punish them for going against his word. That was not priority at the moment and Louis looked up to see the Immortal King himself breaking through the crowd, halting a few feet away to take in the scene. Harry’s skin in rosy and deceptively warm from the fresh blood he’s taken earlier. His attire is entirely jet black from his boots to his gaping silk shirt with a false tie and the ripped fabric braided through his hair to keep the curls under control.

“How many men have you lost?” Harry asked, loudest from all the murmurs he silenced and firm. That was his most special gift: the ability to take charge when chaos was running rampant.

Someone unidentified by Louis answered with a two-digit figure. The King nodded and responded that his men will take their place until mermen were rightfully born and placed in their ranks as soldiers. He handled the ordeal with no sweat and his hardened gaze smothered any brave soul’s argument.

“Bring the carriage!” Harry barked at whomever amongst his present warriors would listen, eyes landing on Louis. “We’ll retire to the castle now and deal with any issues these people have later. Dawn is hours away but there is much to do before then.”


	2. II

Vlad was restless from the moment he leapt off his horse and has yet to find ease in his rabbiting chest, even if Louis’ all-encompassing presence was much revered. Louis’ Bonded hated to be away from Louis and had to be continually reassured that such an extensive separation will never again happen by choice. Despite being reunited for a week now, there was still something strained that needed healing in their bond.

They lay in bed facing each other, Louis guiltily basking in the warmth that the bond in his heart brought when they were close. Vlad had openly expressed his joy by rolling around on the bed, an actual contented cat, with a wide grin.

“Not all of the trip could have been awful.” Louis brushed Vlad’s silvery locks from his blazing yellow eyes, those volcanic orbs that housed flecks of brown. “What did you get up to?”

The leopard’s thumping pulse is audible in the air above their heads. He squirms and reorganises his lean form until he can bother to bury his face in Louis’ belly, bathing in his protector’s scent with a hum. Hair that flows over Vlad’s shoulders regularly now grace the curve of right Louis’ hip; his tanned nudity being nothing to make either companion uncomfortable. Muscle is pronounced on Vlad’s physique but more in a slender warrior way than vicious beast.

“I made a few acquaintances.” Vlad answers in a dreamy whisper. He nuzzles Louis’ soft skin and drapes as much of himself over the other. “None were so interesting as to remember them now.”

Louis’ eyes were closed, his mind tranquil. He’s far too accustomed to Vlad’s innocent physical affection and revels in it now when he had to go without for weeks. “That’s unfortunate.”

“Not really.” Vlad nips at Louis’ belly button. “I only want to be your friend.”

“We’re bonded, Vlad.” His lovely companion replies with a slight laugh. “A relationship like that is insulted when it’s labelled as friendship.”

His leopard reveals a grin of sheer satisfaction. The features on the shapeshifter were as remarkably sharp and elegant like the animal itself. A pointed chin below plump lips that reflected a cartoon heart, wild eyebrows and lush stark white hair were a few of his fine features. “You honour me, my Lou.”

Someone knocks on the door to Louis’ old bedroom and a blade is in the owner’s hand before Vlad gets the chance to merely sit up. No threat is promised to appear from behind the grand, carved double doors but Louis has always been on edge when Vlad is near him. The leopard is capable of defending himself but when naked and trying to rekindle the emotional constituents of a fierce bond, he was in need of protection.

“Down boy.” Vlad jokes, eyes alight with amusement when Louis chases him off the bed to get some clothes on.

Waking up off the mattress, Louis pads over to the door in just his pants with the glistening knife tucked into his waistband. He waits for Vlad to disappear into the bathroom before opening the door and revealing none other than the agitated Immortal King.

In all black attire from a flowing silk shirt to skin tight pants that are mostly hidden by thigh-high leather boots, Harry looks formidable against the navy midnight background. His handsome feats are shadowed by the grim company of rage. Harry hated Vlad and the time he stole from his lover.

“Hello there.” Louis steps outside, shuts the door and makes the King back up once so he can lean against the barricade.

Harry is quick to recover by invading Louis’ personal space, grabbing his bare hips with both hands so he can squeeze them in claim. His forehead is set against Louis’ after a strangely tender kiss. “Are you nearly done, my beauty?”

“Harry.” Louis braces his palms on Harry’s clothed pectorals, feeling the intoxicating familiar rhythm of a jealous heart. He pleads with his cobalt blue eyes shimmering against the night’s gloom. “You know how important it is that we are together now.”

“It’s been a week.” Harry’s voice takes on an unwelcome sharpness and the green of his eyes recedes to pitch black. “The cat should be content now.”

Louis pushes away his unnecessarily rude lover with a steady frown. “Be nice, Harry. I haven’t spent his entire week home with him though I should have.”

“Yes, I know. My apologies, lover.” The King charmingly forfeits his pride and kisses Louis once more, chewing on the boy’s hesitation until the enthusiasm is returned. He smiles barely when Louis catches his neck between his arms and hoists himself up gracefully onto Harry’s upper body. “It is always more of a pleasure to fasten you to me this way than to wear any crown.”

“Such useless flattery.”

Louis frames Harry’s face and connects their lips once more, moaning at the hands roaming to his behind. A tongue demands entry to his mouth and he is not reluctant to grant it. Their amorous display worsens with each advance Harry makes to deepen their kiss until it promises to steal Louis’ breath. His fang nicks the younger’s lip and the tangy hints of blood melts into their union.

“Now.” Harry pulls away, albeit painfully and with unwillingness, clearing his throat to feign indifference. He fails every time he does and when Louis starts pressing his lips to every available spot on the King’s face, a shiver runs down Harry’s spine so he sucks in a sharp breath. “ _Louis,_ if you do not wish for me to take you against this door I urge you to cease this torture.”

Giggling bashfully, Louis does put a stop to his evil doing and straightens his back. “What were you going to say?”

Harry’s scowl softens to make way for a private smirk only his lover ever got to behold. “We are visiting Salem tonight.”

“Salem’s been abandoned for decades.” Louis replies, puzzled. “Has that changed?”

“Yes and not for the better, unfortunately. A farmer from Torquay had once let his crops grow in Salem until he arrived one day to find they’d all been burned. He thought dragons had been flying overhead and merely exposed their flame in passing but the presence of horses and the foulest stench convinced him ghouls were about instead.”

Louis was set back on his feet and he turned his attention to the balcony that spanned the entire left side of the hallway, looking out over the courtyard immediately followed by the iron gates. Eventually there was nothing but open field before the woods said to be haunted by beasts of the cruellest nature. Louis was always amused by those small-minded rumours spread about his Weres residing in those trees.

Salem was once home to witches who were discovered had been slaughtering anything from mer’s to woodland animals for their heinous magic. After execution their town was burned down under Harry’s order but the walls and crumbled abodes were riddled with the invisible remains of those innocent but pained souls that were wrongfully claimed. A perfect breeding territory for demons who would feed on that miserable energy as they were brought from devil to cursed vampire.

“Ghouls are not brilliant.” Louis states, filling his lungs with the chilly night air that whipped around him. “They would have kept the fields to feed themselves.”

Harry knew Louis would look beyond the obvious as monsters of all size and origin were his specialty. They were far too dear to the fair fighter, as they were to his lost mother. He never tried to defend Louis or protect him so intensely that the treatment put him in a cage. Louis trained to fight with the most elite warriors and was more skilled with a blade than most.

“What else has a distinct unpleasant smell?” Harry neared him from behind and his ears pricked at the sound of Louis’ blade scraping the granite. He was battling to redirect his rage the way he had hundreds of years ago when his guardian was slaughtered. “Which creature is profane enough? Tell me.”

Louis ground his jaw and slammed the tip of his custom knife into the cold stone. “Demons.”

*    *    *    *    *

Jumping swiftly off Sovereign’s saddled back, Louis kicks up some dust under his boots when he lands with no struggle. Trees as lofty and frightening as living beings that are scratching one another with sharpened claws to reach the skies close in around Vlad and he. There’s nothing that either fears however even if Louis is oddly tainted by fuming anger. Demons were on their land, forbidden as it was. He was going to set Salem on fire again to hear their horrific shrieking as their mortal vessels burned tonight.

Vlad was quick to shift from agile leopard back to his lean human self. He hadn’t exercised his animal form in days and wanted to stretch those furry limbs for their sprint across castle grounds to the forest.

“They’re bigger.” Vlad pointed out, his head angled back to take in the trunks that extend toward the clouds. “Scarier.”

Louis laughed weakly and handed Vlad a pair of pants to conceal at least one half of his body with. “There’s a lot that’s plenty frightening out here but you’ve got nothing to worry about, love.”

From the midst of the shrubbery on their sides came the Weres they came for. Tyerant was first to appear and reached Louis in two great strides, offering a kiss to their Lord before the others arrived. He was just in torn joggers and looked as solemn as Louis felt. More of Louis’ Weres became visible from the bushes and drew nearer to their leader like a pack seeking to comfort the one who shields them all.

Louis embraced them all, from the youngest who was still training at nineteen years of age to the oldest that was his dear Torement. The eldest from all the Weres and with the most blood on his hands, Tore was the Were Alpha although unmated to Louis. He greeted Vlad respectfully but those deep grey eyes were all for Louis’ hurt, pecking bitten lips fleetingly before holding Louis safe and possessively in his arms.

“You want them dead.” Tore reflected Louis’ thoughts when they retired to the biggest home in the woods and loosely titled pack house. There was no furniture so Louis curled up on the boar skin rug, displaying to his pack that he needed them closer any distance will allow. They became a massive puppy pile shortly after, more than half of them nude though no one was uncomfortable. The fireplace housed a strong bout of flames that licked the chimney and spread a pleasant glow over them.

Louis had Torement at his back and was resting his head on Vlad’s abdomen while Tyerant utilised one of his thighs as a pillow. The other was under the guardianship of the newest horde member, Matthew, while Louis occupied himself with drawing odd shapes on another’s, Ahgony, chest. Ahgony was younger than Torement by fifty years and had just as many scars concentrated mainly on his bald scalp.

“Demons are to be executed on sight by anyone who is able.” He said quietly. “I’m going to make sure that I see them all.”

Tyerant made a soft sound of agreement that was consequently echoed by the rest of them. They were all too happy to kill for their Lord’s happiness. “How many of us will you have with you?”

“Harry is sending six of his _Naga_.” Louis refers to the elite personal guard of the King, all of which were descendants from the oldest serpent shapeshifter. They were similar to vampires with their fangs but much more unsettling to watch during their meals. “Salem is a small town so there can’t be many of the bastards there. I’d like the first fourteen volunteers to accompany us.”

“Will you be leading the hunt?” Matthew spoke up from indiscreetly nuzzling Louis’ shin with unveiled enthusiasm.

“Yes.”

“Tore and I are coming.” Tye says firmly, a deep rumble in his chest that tells the others he is not to be bargained with.

Ahgony voiced his participation next and as Matthew’s mentor, assured Louis that the teenager was ready to handle himself in this fight. Louis took his word for it.

Wroth, one of the two best swordsmen in their pack joined in, sitting up next to his purring twin brother. “Troy and I would be honoured to be beside you tonight.”

The entire pack tried to put their names into Louis’ small army for this night’s mission, some going so far as to try crawling closer to him which only ends in fights for positions. Louis watches them battle without drawing blood and smiles fondly, ending all tumbles with one whistle. He stands and the pack follows as one body, awaiting his word.

He announces the fourteen names that are to get dressed and find horses so they may ride back to the castle for weapons. Besides the names that were clearly spoken earlier, Louis chooses his other warriors by finding them in the mass of partially or entirely naked Weres. As they are named they disappear further into the pack house in search of their shared closet that takes up the entire second floor.

“Viktor.” Louis found the only man in the pack whose Were has a purple stripe down its back and is still capable of securing a machine gun. He dropped to his knees before Louis could ask him not to, and hugged the soft hips at his eye level. Viktor was in the Roman army and was ten times deadlier for every bit of silence he brought forth. Louis kissed the top of his head and let the Were let go when he was ready.

Markus was next, as Viktor’s past apprentice he was just as skilled in combat at the beast that trained him. Grym and Richard, brothers by blood but simply could not be more contradictory to their genetic make-up as siblings, were excellent in any hunt. They pressed their lips to Louis’ cheek before following a path to the stairs. Once an archivist, Benedict had once upon a time had never touched a gun and it just so happened that he was a master of disguises and implantations. He had grenades and knives on him at all times, and even now Louis spotted the silver plated handle of one such blade peeking out from a hidden braid.

Two other youngsters but older than Matthew by a century or more, were Sky and Zak. They were hungry for another fight and thanked Louis for his offer by issuing a series of enthusiastic, bloodthirsty howls. Louis finds himself smiling by the time they come to him, and sends them off to get dressed before they could elicit rascal behaviour from the others. The last spot was artless to award but less harmless to say.

“X.” Louis calls to his most ominous Were. Once a torturer for an ancient Emperor, X went by no other name. He was six feet and four inches of steel muscle below a tattooed head, and Louis swore the ground shook when he walked. Plain brown eyes found Louis as they drew closer.

The Were had been tossed out by the Emperor he served ages ago and had been caught by one of his many enemies. He was growing into his preternatural strength at the time and could not defend himself outside mortal skill. His tongue was removed and his back was skinned, the edges burnt with ash so it would not heal. As a Were, no infection could seize him and X lived his life with no skin on his back until he found Louis. He was going to refuse any Lord to control him until Louis forced his way under the Were’s covers one particularly awful night and in the morning X awoke to no reminder of his worst endurance.

“Hey there, big guy.” Louis pats X’s bicep and lets his palm glide down the arm until the latter is turning his hand over to receive Louis’. “Will you be my back-up tonight?”

*     *    *    *    *

Louis brings them to the King’s castle and armoury to suit up. Demons are one above impossible to kill if one is ill-prepared. In their chosen vessels from the Immortal races, silver was a grand thing to have when destroying the demons that possessed the irretrievable creatures. These demons had nothing to do with religion and if they ever chose to abandon their hosts to fight in their true forms, there was no hope.

Personally, Louis made sure he had a plan to get his Weres out if everything went downhill. He had to utilise an old bit of magic to restrict the demons’ domain to Salem so they can’t leave without the magic dying with Louis. It was risky and going to stir the dead whose blood remained crusted to the towns’ walls but Louis cared little for that aftermath.

He crossed his silver rapier with a sawed off Uzi over his back in leather straps. They hung tight and heavy against his spine but were reassuring attendances along with the loaded mag’s sitting in pairs on his hips in fastened belts. Twin Browning 9mm accompanied the silver nitrate rounds like idle terror. Louis sheathed his curved blades on his forearms and against his thighs.

The doors to the arsenal room came undone to see the Immortal King walk in, followed by two attendants with cases. Louis’ Weres set the air alight with tension but he glances at them all in turn in polite caution. Whether Louis’ lover was armed or not, there was no way of knowing because Harry is a mastermind when it comes to hiding his means of execution.

He comes to a stop in front of Louis with a pleasant smirk, content to unsettle the Weres even further by kissing him. A rumble of frightening undertones travels through the room, growls and poorly restrained howls following suit. “My _Naga_ have offer your warriors gifts. Will you accept?”

As leaders of different parties and in some eyes, opposing forces, the accepting of gifts was done the way warlords had done for centuries. Louis nods and pays the King no extra attention besides licking his lips tauntingly. “What are the gifts?”

This question births a flicker of doubt in Harry’s usually confidant exterior, igniting Louis’ concern that his initial self-assurance was a façade. “Silver collars.”

Someone, Torement by the gravely undercurrent, growls in a crescendo that elicits the will and aggressive snarls of the others. Their dignity has been insulted and Louis won’t stop his Weres’ threatening reactions.

“Your _Naga_ seek to affront my wolves.” Louis bares his teeth and backs away from the King. He puts his own hurt feelings aside in favour of now defending his Weres.

“No.” Harry fills out his superficial suit that he wears to council court and when meeting the lesser Masters of other covens. “Silver is the enemy of demons, which we are going to meet in their territory tonight. My _Naga_ thought to offer your Weres protection for their most vulnerable area.”

Louis feels Tore at his back and looks over his shoulder at the others. They’re each stiff and fuelled with more rage to survive the night. Zak is wrapping his knuckles in leather cloth and the slight tremble in his arms is dimming. Wroth’s eyes are murderous, his dagger teeth exposed in a snarl. Tyerant meets Louis’ eye before throwing his head back and putting his heart into a grave howl, joined seconds later by his pack brothers.

“We do not accept.” Louis turns back to Harry, bowing his head to dismiss the exchange and receiving the King’s hostile nod with a glare. It pains him in the region where their bond originates to disregard his mate as well as feel Harry’s desolation at having to do the same.

*    *    *    *    *

Salem is little more than a settlement corpse by the time it appears on the horizon. Louis pulled Sovereign to a halt and consequently, all the other riders. Harry’s gaze could be felt like hot coal at every move Louis made but the latter male was exceptional at masking his expression. Whether or not the King chose to accompany them on this venture to prove himself unworthy of Louis’ anger, his lover didn’t care. Tonight he has another vendetta to carry out.

The small gathering of burned ruins lay still and without activity some meters away. Already the air was heavy and difficult to inhale without tasting the anguish that has fed the soil here in blood and flesh. Demons needed no light and hiding behind these boulders was futile because the turned vampires in Salem would have scented them in the wind already. Louis took in the crisp field of destroyed crops and beyond that, the idle homes of former beings.

“They know we’re here.” He said, dropping his hood and parting his lips. Sovereign was uneasy, dispirited by the evil that gave ground to the harsh breeze up here. Something at the back of neck grew impossibly frigid, and a number flew past his mind. “Seven.”

Torement rode up alongside him and X took the other side. “What?”

Louis could almost s _ee_ them in the distance, waiting at the town’s border for their company. Black silhouettes moved in the wreckage and rubies seemed to float in pairs without body. None of the others could see the demons or notice the fact that they all seemed to be looking at Louis with smirks. Louis’ wrist started to itch as his memories flooded back of his siren guardian and friends being unjustly slaughtered in a peaceful town by these foul creatures’ hands.

Where a demon’s blood spilled on his palms began to feel wet once more and Louis breathed in deep, wincing at the powerful traffic of memories that seemed to come with it. The smell of burning clay. The screams of siren women being raped. Children tossed so their necks snapped.

“Wait!” He shouts out to the _Naga_ soldiers that were forming a defensive V at the head of their company. All eyes snap toward him because Louis is nudging Sovereign onward in patient strides. “They’re expecting us.”

Harry answers him from somewhere far, far away. Louis’ focus is not deterring from the building shambles at the hill’ peak. “If they weren’t it would be more of a concern.”

“No.” Louis whispers, listening to a chilling voice that’s carried in the wind. “They wanted us to come here. They....- They have something to say.”

His wrist explodes in stifling discomfort. He hisses at the throbbing itch crackling beneath his skin and against his flesh, rushing to undo one of his knife sheaths so he can scratch at the surface. In just about the right split second Harry pulls Louis off his horse and to the ground, but making contact with grass that’s grown on murder only makes Louis scream. The sound is crippling and goes up into the air, absorbed by the negative entities awaiting them.

“Stop it.” Harry holds Louis’ wrists and tries to draw the discomfort out of his lover’s body but his power cannot detect anything malignant to remove. “Louis! Louis, look at me.”

“Don’t.” Torement barks from not a foot away, holding back the other Weres who so desperately want to comfort their Lord in this agony. “We don’t understand what this is.”

Like an unspoken word that reaches only Harry’s ear, the King looks up and reflexively puts Louis behind him though it is not needed. Standing before them are seven, precise to Louis’ statement, crimson-eyed vampires that have surpassed the threshold to true Immortals. Demons cannot die but merely travel from host to host, parading in several forms.

They all stand stock-still with their heads tilted and lips curled sadistically. The faces of the vampires they claimed are perfectly sustained with remarkable beauty still intact, but every few heartbeats their black blood becomes visible in their veins on their neck or cheeks. One stands ahead of all the rest, and is dressed in the scraps of a soldier’s uniform.

“Let him go, King.” The malevolent leader smiles at Harry and everyone gets a passing glimpse of the demon’s true form. A black shadow with garnet eyes and a permanently circular mouth of razor teeth. “See where he goes.”

Louis, transfixed and sweating profusely with a bleeding wrist, was being held by Torement even as he struggled futilely. Harry’s _Naga_ could not move forward to protect their King but Harry didn’t let that regret show on his face.

“The ancestor of the serpent, King, is a demon.” The leader speaks again, and rivers of coal black appear on the pale skin of his vessel. It’s grinning at them while the other six are totally absorbed by Louis’ struggle. “We have forever, King, but you can wait only until dawn. Let him go.”

Something in Louis’ possession snaps just the way it had when it commenced. He feels a sudden sense of clarity in mind and heart, setting his hands on Torement’s forearms so he may stand upright with flushed cheeks and wild eyes. Torement has an oddly difficult time restraining Louis in his arms, attempting to eventually sweep Louis off his feet entirely.

His Lord is swaying a bit in his stance but supporting himself nonetheless. Louis takes large drags of air to replenish his lungs, unsure whether it’s his close proximity to a pack member that has awarded him this reprieve. The demons are watching him, taking in every move he makes like it’s a script they’re hoping to distribute. Louis’ eyes are downcast when everything goes white and realisation dawns on him. He heard a voice but that this time it was straining, crossing planes from living to dead. It could be his frantic imagination but Louis listened anyway, gasping at the sound of his father’s voice in his mind.

Centuries ago when he was unborn and his parents lived as rebellious fighters, his father had the misfortune of meeting Morlock, a bender of the earth’s most ancient magic. Morlock was the Father of the _Zila’Daemonai_ , now feared as merely demons. They were to be his children and guard for he would never have his own descendants by blood. Louis’ father had realised that his bride would not survive the birth of their son, and so made a deal for her to meet her baby before departing forever.

“No.” Louis rejected the perfectly elegant stream of memories from a lifetime before his own. He felt his Weres burning with their lack of knowing, and the King was reproachful.

With newfound grace Louis withdrew from Tore and set himself aside, ahead of their company. He bypassed Harry and shook his head when Tyerant tried to flank him. The antagonistic demons were pleasant and the one who falsely served as their leader stood less than a meter away, smiling callously. Louis met his eye the way most Immortals never did, and didn’t flinch at the pungent odour of decaying within a living skin.

“What happens if I reject you?” Louis asked bluntly. Demons that were once fathered had to be so for their entire existences and Louis’ Lycan sire did not count on this for repayment of his debt.

Bloody eyes turn to active molten as they churn the way the demon’s discontentment does. He releases a throttled hiss that Louis doesn’t react to, and casts his glance away. The fangs of the vampire he claimed glisten in the moonlight like the skin against it is waxy and lacking life. Whoever the vampire was, he had deep red hair and freckles over his nose.

“Answer me.” Louis braved through his concerns for self-preservation and demanded a response.

The demon’s words are weighed down on by a lilt of reluctance. “You cannot reject us.”

Louis was not pleased with the reply. “You’re lying.”

“I am not.” Demons are unfamiliar with being denied or turned away, entirely foreign to the paradigm in which someone does not fear them beyond an altered pulse rate. When Louis turns away from him, the morally ruined being chases after him by stepping in Louis’ path. “Do not leave us.”

Annoyed, Louis has a blade bouncing pure white light off its deadly edge against the demon’s throat in a moment. He presses the tip in until a rivulet of onyx runs down the waning body. “I can though, can’t I? I can choose to abandon you.”

_“Yes.”_

Lowering his weapon, Louis wipes the viscous liquid off the steel and sheaths it. He takes a moment to look around him at those that came with him to execute those that are intricately tied to him by his father’s vow. An apology from a dead voice into his ear privately is not enough to quell Louis’ frustration.

“Your name?” Louis asks.

The demon and the others mirror each other’s stress. “We are not named.”

“Fine. I’ll call you Lucien. What will happen if I deny your kiss, Lucien?” He asks, using the common term for a group of demons.

“Without a Master we with wither away until we are part of the dirt but not before our minds rot first, needing us to kill always to sustain it.”

“Great.” Louis scoffs. He looks at his wrist where it earlier felt like it was being plunged into a fire’s hearth. The skin is healed and without a trace of his ravenous scratching. “What would I being your Master entail?”

“Louis.” Harry interrupts calmly. He comes up beside his boy and secures Louis’ waist in the curl of his arm. “Tread carefully, my fair warrior. The dawn is almost here.”

True to the Immortal King’s word and over the horizon to their left is the first promise of an arriving sun for the day. Pink and orange unfolds in powerful rays, dying just short of their gathering.

“We will be yours to call as the King calls snakes to his aid.” Lucien continues, stepping away from the creeping sunlight beams. Demons despised the brightness even though the only damage done would be to their Immortal vessels.

“Be still.” Louis ordered the demon, surprised when it obeys without question. “You’ll follow my word?”

“Yes.”

The sun’s expansive rods of light crawl beyond an unspoken barrier and swathes the demon’s feet in yellow gleams. Louis waits for the creature to hiss and move away, but nothing of the kind happens. Pain is not even evident on the demon’s visage; he fights his nature to be loyal.

Could he accept this oath of fidelity? He is not the man his father was but had he been, he’d have died from the amount of enemies the man gathered. Louis closes his eyes and considers his options once more, no matter how absurd. What were the chances that his parents amassed so many responsibilities for him to fulfil? It all required Louis to be in charge and graciously demanding. Leading the Weres was challenging on its own and it has taken three centuries to perfect its art, but demons were an entirely different game.

Demons fed on flesh and fear as often as they could. Louis joined his pack’s hunt once a month so they feasted ceremoniously in his company and his honour. What would finding prey for demons comprise of? Louis will not sacrifice innocent and undeserving lives to feed those seemingly indebted to him. Morlock had done it and generations ago secured a future Master for his demons, only no warning was given to Louis as to whether the task was manageable.

“I can’t decide this tonight.” Louis finally says, already jogging back to Sovereign and heaving his mass onto the stallion’s back. His animal backs up while the other riders turn restless, their horses huffing or dragging their hooves through the sand. “Find me when night falls again as long as it’s not within the castle’s walls.”

Lucien offered a sweeping bow and pseudo-charming smile. “As you wish, Master.”

Louis shakes his head and lifts the hood of his cloak over his face, casting a nod in Tore’s direction so the Were’s kick up the earth in their steady gallop back into the woods. Harry grabs Louis’ reins and urges him on, his _Naga’s_ heads hung low. “I’m not your Master yet, Lucien.”

*    *    *    *    *

“Arthur!” Louis storms into the Keeper’s Library while still on Sovereign’s back and shouting for the Keeper of their archives. He lets the heavy bolted doors slam shut behind him and turns to the guards dumbstruck at the entrance. “Where is he?”

One of them is foolish enough to step forward and begin to warn Louis off his horse. “My Lord, you cannot-“

“Not today, soldier.” Louis glares at the Immortal. He nudges Sovereign’s side and lets the horse break into a trot towards the descending staircase hidden by a circle of shelves.

Books lay in piles and disorderly on those intimidating support structures attached to mobile ladders. Nobody but the Keeper knew how to navigate anything in this jungle of printed paper. Louis listened to Sovereign’s hooves click against cracked tiles as he travels down the stairs, covering the last group in one leap. The horse stands idle at the base of steps when Louis jumps down with fluid poise, shoving the single oak door open before him.

The Keeper’s basement is laden with old papers and the private collection of history books that almost reached the dawn of their Immortal civilisation. Louis would sit here for hours when he was new to the King’s lair and read as much as he could with a bowl of something to nibble on. He was never so furious when he hid away here before as he is presently.

“Arthur!” Louis sheds his cloak at the door and drops his weapons bit by bit as he nears the fireplace surrounded by a couple of couches. His guns go first before his longest blade and Uzi. They all lead a destructive path to the Keeper’s hideaway until Louis is left with one knife tucked into his waistband.

The Keeper appears from behind some half a dozen heaps of ageing novels. He’s hugging one of the larger scripts to his chest and pulling off his glasses with a confused frown. “Louis?”

The troubled one between the two of them rounds the corner and comes into view, red in the face while nothing except worry curtails his usually expressive eyes. “Tell me about Morlock and my father.”

Arthur’s mood switches masks and is curtained by his rarest exposure: resignation. He nods in his beige shirt and camouflaging pants, motioning for Louis to follow him. On the way to the safe serenity of the fireplace and the glow it thereby emits, Arthurs drops his papers on a random tower of books.

“Sit.” Arthur, in his undeniable fatherly manner, gestures for them to occupy the chairs opposite to one another and partitioned by a gleaming coffee table. He swipes the volume of parchment sheets – indicating its age – and dumps it onto the table’s top, opening it in one act to the right page. The book is flipped to face Louis. “Morlock, known as the Father of Intemperance and Master of _Zila’Daemonai._ He was born twelve hundred years ago and was struck down by a troop of warriors that invaded his den a hundred or so ago.”

Louis picks the manuscript up and set it on his lap, browsing over the primeval scripture of an archivist in their earliest eras. A rough sketch was printed beneath some slanted writing, depicting Morlock himself with skewed lips and a black crown burned into his skin by ink. “Was he evil?”

“Not in the way most expect. Morlock was shrewd and very fond of his own survival. As any soul on their own would know, you cannot survive without killing.” Arthur turned the page for Louis and a list commenced, stretching on for six sheets. “Morlock made his demons successfully for the first time after trying for three centuries.”

“How many were there?”

“Seven.” Arthur says, leaning back in his seat with his fingers picking at his lips. “They were his children, his finest creations. Morlock had a prophecy about his own death and knew that someone would have to be their Master when he cannot.”

Louis stared at the story written before him, words highlighted by an imaginary golden hue as he read them. “My father.”

“No, son. _You._ ” The Keeper sighed; regretting that this account ever had to be retold. Louis was wise beyond his years and in a world like theirs, something of such a calibre is perilous. “Your father knew how fine a warrior you’d become and swore his word to Morlock so your mother might see you just once.”

“Did Morlock trick them?”

Arthur shook his head and his smile was prim, unable to breach the light of his eyes. “He did as he promised. Now his demons are yours.”

Louis feels the back of his vision go blurry with tears. The sting of it is like an impending storm when the next page comes under the fire’s radiance and it’s a portrait of his parents. His stunning fey mother and her Lycan – the last of the primordial wolf race – lover whose reputations were those of the few unsurpassed fighters this world has ever seen.

 _Zara._ Her eyes were bright even if the sketch was merely pencil on paper, and a tear struck the page beneath Louis’ trembling fingers when he remembered that he’d never know the colour they were. Arthur said they were golden but Louis never saw them himself, would never tack on his own description of their shade. Her face was delicate but entirely deceiving to those she fooled with her looks. His Lycan father was standing behind her, his hand concealed by hers where their fingers interlocked. _Joaquin._ Just like any wolf who has seen the ugliest battles, was forlornly littered with his own scars.

Louis wants them with him now more than ever so he can have their guidance. He longs to feel as if he could run to them when the monsters overwhelm him. They could not be here to help Louis learn the extent of his own power or redirect him if his decisions are carved out poorly. There have been moments like tonight when he was either in alarming distress or thrust into a new facet of his own potential, that their whispers can be sensed at the back of his mind.

“Why would they leave me with all this?” Louis wipes his cheeks with the back of his hand, and covers the depiction of his parents with a hand.

Arthur’s sympathy carries bitterly in his gaze. He’s the only one to have had more contact with the deceased Zara and Joaquin than anyone else. “They rode to the aid of many minorities and any gifts for them were passed to you. They love you, son, even now though they are not here to tell you.”

Louis closes the book and brings his knees up to his chest, feeling susceptible and without sane thought. He solidifies his resolve with a deep breath. “How do I handle this, Arthur? I mean _demons_?”

“You have Elijah and Vlad, then a pack of six hundred Weres.” Arthur calmly reminds Louis of his not at all slight accomplishments. “They follow you and they _trust_ you because you promise to be loyal in return.”

“Demons don’t respect loyalty, Arthur.”

“Those without Masters, yes. Your demons would have belonged to someone from their births.” The Keeper reassures him. “They are no different or Elijah or Vlad in that regard.”

Louis almost scoffs indignantly. “My creatures are not so slight in their moral standing.”

“You forget that demons are beasts too.” Arthur chastises Louis’ biased manner. “They can be tamed and taught allegiance just as any other.”

“You’re right.” Louis crosses his legs and puffs out his cheeks stubbornly. He closes his eyes and there his father is as a flickering image that won’t rest until Louis’ settled his mind. “What should I do, Arthur?”

The library’s Keeper leans forward with his elbows resting on his knees. He looks at Louis studiously until a tired sigh runs free of his lips. “Say yes to them, son. The alternative could lead to massacres before we get the guard out to execute them.”

Louis winces at the recollection of being in one of those mass murders so demons can feed their madness with bloodshed. Towns filled with undeserving lives have not earned such gruesome ends. If it means Louis struggles in learning to domesticate both his power and the demons under his wing, a little sacrifice is needed. He’s made it this far with the pack and his two unique beasts but not without great effort. Taking the leap into the eye of a similar yet far riskier choice should be a hobby of his by now.

*    *    *    *    *

Elijah is in the King’s personal library tucked into the premises of the castle grounds. Louis didn’t want him going off the property to Arthur’s Keep yet when he would be unprotected. The minotaur sees Louis enter and stands clumsily from the floor to greet his protector.

“Hey Eli.” Louis smiles at his companion and feels a bit enlightened being near to the creature. Elijah, despite his outward appearance of enmity and physical supremacy, was a giant brother bear. “Sorry I didn’t come to you earlier, something…unusual happened today.”

The minotaur nodded a little stiffly and sat down again after Louis takes up a perch on the armrest of his chair. “Bad?”

“I thought so when it happened but I’ve been convinced to see it in another light.”

Louis leans back in a slanted pose so his weight is supported by the chair’s cushion but his elbow rests on Elijah’s shoulder. He has easy access to card through the minotaur’s wavy locks with one hand; not risking a pause to press his lips against Elijah’s concaving temple bone. The closeness of protector and creature eases the subtle unrest in Elijah’s chest cavity.

“Good now?” The horned beast asks in the process of finding Louis’ warmth with the parts North of his clavicle.

“Yeah.” Louis helps Elijah on his way to his front, the one shattered curved antler pressing harmlessly into his abdomen while the intact one hooks over his hip. “How was your day, Eli love?”

The minotaur raises his head and picks out a book to show Louis, one that is entitled _Emmerson’s Fables._ Louis cracks it open and finds the diction to be of one higher than an elementary level but still its standard would elicit mockery from those shallow – also mindless – enough to try offending one of Louis’ company.

“You read the whole thing?” Louis asks, beaming at Elijah’s intent attention when he responds in the affirmative. “Will you read it to me?”

Elijah does shake his head at this initially when Louis allows him. There was always this dance of refusal then wary acquiescence. Louis and Vlad have been listening to Elijah’s bedtime stories for every night in the past week, turning it into an exquisite custom.

“Come on.” Louis puts his hand in Elijah’s beefy fist and leads him out of the library into the brightly illuminated hallway.

More than anything Louis wants a shower and to have fresh clothes on. He leaves Elijah and Vlad to converse about the humble topics they seemed to prefer, so he might get under the hot shower spray. In the steam and lavender fragranced aroma he lets his mind loosen at the seams so any withheld reservations may be unearthed. Images of Lucien’s demon form floats into his focus followed shortly by the other six in their host’s flesh.

From tonight he’s going to bind himself metaphysically to those vulgar beings, or previously thought of as so foul anyway. Louis scrubs himself clean but the skin above his wrist never stops tingling, marking itself as the future home of the demon’s oath. Morlock had a stained crown across his forehead and Louis was going to have a smaller version across his wrist.

“Damn it.” He cursed the empty bathroom, and got out of the shower to towel off. Over his boxer briefs he pulled a ratty shirt on. His signature Browning and bowie knife sit tauntingly on the bathroom counter, beckoning him to go unarmed no longer.

Vlad is lying across the luxuriously soft sheets as an unmistakeably gratified feline, although his lower half is draped haphazardly over Elijah’ abdomen. He’s fitted a pillow under his head and is filling the room with drowsy purrs because of the rough hands caressing the lean physique of his back.

“Sleepy?” Louis crawls onto the high-rise mattress and folds his legs beneath his body.

Vlad eyes him lazily before arching into Elijah’s cautious kneading. “Are you going to tell us what happened last night?”

Louis remembers being more than a smidgen terrified of uniting Elijah with Vlad as they were both going to be his to care for. The worry was unnecessary when the pair became fast friends that revelled in their similarities. Vlad was less reserved in his behaviour and still tended towards the cultured grace of his inner leopard; he had gotten Elijah to open up to him quickly by simply becoming a pet for the minotaur to treasure.

“Alright.” Louis clicks the safety on his firearm and sets it down on the nightstand with his blade. He smiles when the sheet guarding Vlad’s modesty shifts but Elijah silently repositions it; moments such as these always made Louis’ heart flutter. “It seems that seven demons have come to me for their home.”

His leopard stares at him stunned, while Elijah slowly develops a displeased grimace. “Bad.”

“Not really.” Louis has to convince them just as he had done to his own conscience. “They will swear fealty and loyalty, which means they’ll have to follow my orders.”

“Master of demons.” Vlad frowns. “That’s not going to be a treat.”

Their protector laughs unexpectedly and brushes the leopard’s starkly blond hair back onto his shoulders. “I agree but if I say no it could just put people in danger for no reason.”

Elijah clears his throat and regards Louis with pride but concern. “Reason. They scare you.”

Louis can’t hide the sadness that bathes the colour of his eyes in something darker. He shivers from an imagined cold and hugs his knees. “They won’t if I spend enough time with them. I told Lucien to stay in the sun and he did it without arguing.”

Vlad grabs Louis’ leg and holds on. “Who’s Lucien?”

“The demon that did all the talking.”

“What are you going to do?” The shiftiness of the leopard’s pupils alerted Louis of his fears.

He slid down on the sheets and hugs the troubled Immortal, arms wound tightly around the other. Louis hides his fond laughter poorly when Elijah tries to join before timeously opening his arms to let the minotaur in on their embrace. It’s a close grouping but Louis feels like a previously taut muscle in his chest finally relaxes.

“There’s no need to be afraid, you both know that.” Louis whispers to them. “I won’t let anything come close to hurting either of you.”

Getting Vlad and Elijah to settle their concerns is more of a task than anticipated. Louis tucks them under the navy covers after they’ve reluctantly found comfortable positions. His leopard slept religiously on Elijah’s uncharacteristically broad torso, his pillow being the minotaur’s heartbeat. Louis never questioned it or tried to force them apart because he trusted them to respect his authority. If Elijah harboured any discomfort he never made it apparent for he was just as glad to have a weight on his chest, something to hold and guard that’s physically inferior to him.

“Sleep.” Louis kissed them both on their cheeks, sounding firmer than he meant to. “Do you think you’ll need me before sunset?”

Vlad shakes his head but Elijah remains motionless. Louis doesn’t press for an answer when he’s well aware of how difficult it was for the beast to adjust to safe, comfortable living in such majesty. From a captive he became an independent being with personal growth.

“I’ll come back soon.” Louis places his hand over Elijah’s hooded eyes and when he removes them, the minotaur is succumbing to sleep peacefully.

*    *    *    *    *

Something puts Louis on edge when he’s at the door and about to turn the knob, like a particular nerve spanning the length of his nape lights up. He checks the mag in his trusty Browning before tugging once on the brass handle so it gives way. A fist is partially raised to knock on the door, falling limp when the barrel of a gun is what greets it.

Louis recognises the visitor to be one of Harry’s younger attendants, one of the more abundant populations that is harpies. Auburn wings sit nestled in the space between sculpted shoulderblades that were more upright than most Immortals. Harpies were the definition of elegance and loveliness. Golden bond hair that’s as straight as a pin and always lengthy were their principle characteristic.

“Damn it, Jason.” Louis lowered his weapon and holstered it. He stepped out so he can close and bolt the bedroom doors, thus disabling anyone unwelcome from getting to those relying on him.

“My apologies, my Lord.” Jason drops his gaze to the floor, not afraid but humble. “The King requests your presence.”

“The King?” Louis’ bewilderment is apparent in the growing visibility of the blue in his eyes.

The harpy flushes of all the pinkness in his complexion. “Yes, my Lord. He is awake during the daylight hours from drawing on others’ energy.”

“Christ.” Louis curses under his breath and lets his frustration cause a hitch in his voice. “That man is going to make me shoot him.”

Harry’s quarters is laid out extravagantly over most of the upper West wing. His library, bedroom and study are the main constituents of the medieval architectural space that’s heavily guarded by the bravest among the soldiers under Harry’s esteemed War Lord, Cyril. Louis sprints down the hallway and skids to a halt before he can brush past the familiar security detail to shove the King’s handcrafted study doors.

Within the room, there is no illumination except that which comes from a false window that keeps the sunlight out but supplies a magnificent electronic view of the moon. Louis is hardly one to enjoy the faux moonshine when there’s six lifeless bodies sprawled across the floor between him and an ominous King. Harry’s leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed and gaze concentrated on Louis’ wild entry.

“What the Hell, Harry?” Louis all but raises his voice at the leader of all Immortals, glaring daggers at his presently lethal lover.

The power in the room is unrelenting and unyielding to any being within its confines. Louis could gasp at the uproarious rush of energy that surges through his veins after being dislodged from the hearts of the _Naga_ soldiers that have met their undignified ends.

“This kind of foolishness has consequences.” He reminds the silent King, manoeuvring around or over the deathly blue corpses to approach him. Harry watches him like an awestruck observer but says nothing, his dark eyes gleaming with animosity.

He licks his lips and glances away from Louis’ nearing profile to the door. “You should have much to be livid about concerning me. Is this what you choose to begin with?”

Louis lets his tension deflate in a quick exhale. The one he treasures as his lover and closest friend is _sulking_ because this past night has wounded his pride. “Come here.”

Harry follows, almost mindlessly, when Louis grabs his arm and leads him away from the most morbid floor decoration to the shadowed desk. Horrid squeaking ensues from the grand leather chair being displaced so Louis might leave no alternatives to sitting in it. Doing as ordered, the Immortal King smirks wryly when he’s left facing his boy’s lower torso.

“Am I mad at you for allowing your silly fighters to _gift_ my Weres something that would evidently offend them? Yes.” Louis’ contradictory actions of allowing Harry to lean forward against his soft belly makes the King take heed of his words. “Even though I should give you a hard time for letting _Naga_ soldiers near demons, I’m not going to because I also failed to realise it was only going to be to our detriment. We’re lucky things went the way it did but-“

 _“Lucky?”_ Harry’s throat releases an unnerving hiss that melds his dispute into one smooth sound. “You’re in demand by bloody demons, Louis.”

“Yes.” Louis tugs harshly on the curls between his fingers. “Would you rather have had them come ready to fight?”

“We were ready to slay them all.”

“Too bad, Harry.” A sigh follows the firm statement.

Harry growls, baring his pointed molars and obscuring any chance of seeing how sullenly onyx his eyes are. “That cannot be your entire opinion on the situation.”

Louis chews his bottom lip with a vengeance as he mentally prepares what he’s going to say. “I’m going to wait for them tonight so I can accept their fidelity.”

 _“What?!”_ The King launches himself to his full intimidating height, roaring in anguish coupled with wretched fury.

Muttering an exasperated word or two of reprieve from Harry’s wrath, Louis backs up until he’s braced against the hard oak desk that housed many a map previously for battle purposes. He has stopped being frightened into a case of ceaseless shivers when the King’s rage got the better of him years ago, but that didn’t mean Harry was any less daunting in his approach.

What was normally the emerald gateway to tranquillity and safety that could be found nowhere else is now lacking any comfort to offer. Harry’s eyes darken the way his mood retreats from self-loathing to an indelicate tempest that wreaks havoc behind the inhuman strength of a King.

“Tell me you’re lying.” Harry rumbles, failing entirely in concealing his threatening tendency now that a preposterous ideal has been put forth to him. “Tell me you’re doing this to daunt me.”

Louis glances momentarily over his shoulder before swiftly ducking from his possessed lover’s arms so he can hoist his weight onto the table. Getting away is never an easy task if one’s pursuer is the only Styles descendant in these lands. The maps are kicked aside incidentally under Louis’ shoe when he backs away from the edge closest to Harry, crouching defensively on the table.

“Back off, Harry.” There’s a blade in Louis’ hand, poised for any necessary strike, without thinking beyond a reflex to get it out.

The King is one below trembling with undying vehemence. “Not only have you just _considered_ taking on those forsaken demons but you’ve reinforced the decision. That is-“

“It’s my business as they will be mine to care for.” Louis tries in vain to stabilise his seething tone.

“ _That is_ ludicrous!” Harry explodes; swiping at Louis to grab his closest feature but the boy is prepared and shuffles out of reach. “You can’t be serious-“

Louis is caught spontaneously by his shirt and rather than fighting it, uses the momentum granted to dig his elbow into Harry’s throat where the pain is searing. He lets his pent up frustration fuel the wrestle that gets Harry on his back with his lover astride his torso. The King’s arms are pinned beneath solid knees, snarling teeth not content with the hand that conceals it. Louis watches Harry’s expression harden the way it does before he answers a challenge.

“I have decided to accept them after ensuring that the alternative is truly terrifying.” Louis says strictly in a curt voice, daring Harry to make a move now. “Innocent lives will not be put in harm’s way because I can’t handle what’s always been coming.”

Harry comes out from under Louis’ palm riddled with tension, but takes a silent few seconds to gather his civility. “No one’s been able to tame demons before.”

Louis shrugged as if to say, ‘So?’

“I’m going to do it.” He swears out loud. “They’re going to be mine to keep anyone else from becoming theirs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd appreciate your feedback please :) all my love


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This world is one of blood, sex and gore. Cheers to the maddened and hooray for the undead.

Louis has had his temper challenged far too often this night and was finally brave enough to confront this fang-bearing crowd as to his feelings. No less than fourteen times has Vlad been approached by fascinated or envious Elders, and naturally Elijah as the two was always within close proximity at these ridiculous coven gatherings. After the sixth time the helpless leopard sought their protector out to timidly remind Louis that they were not glad to be here nor were they enthusiastic about the prodding by aged fingers at their fascinating features.

Feeling unfathomable amounts of guilt, Louis abandoned the King and swiftly made his way through the crowd. He had to send off an inquisitive youngling vampire from harassing Elijah, who stood motionless and tense against the wall. It was degrading to the nocturnal Immortal but Louis is not far too well known by all the Kingdoms as a force to be reckoned with.

 _La Daemona der fore Soun,_ they called him. It roughly translated from the Old Language as: ‘Leading Son of Demons’. Louis was a Prince now and not by any traditional means; he was Master to his demons and Prince of the Daemona to everyone else. An entire year it has been spent training soldiers for hours during the day or night, spending most of his nights with his Weres and tending most strictly to the needs of his demons before falling asleep well past dawn.

Tonight is meant to be no less hectic but Louis has brought all under his control to an agreement that if Harry needed Louis at this ceremony, then they all must be attendance if willing. Vlad had jumped at the opportunity to be part of a celebration this grand and Louis hadn’t uttered a word when he fitted the bill for his and Elijah’s exquisite clothing. It was all deep red silk for the leopard except for his leather pants that has string roping up the outer sides and riding boots. Elijah loved cotton and Louis got him into a pale blue shirt that’s open until the first dip in his abdominal muscles, atop pants that matched Vlad’s.

The vampires surrounding them were disconcerting when Louis’ main company resided in shapeshifters or demons. Lucien was here under Louis’ word, dressed deceptively in scrumptious black velvet that sat in an effortless laziness on his lean figure. His shirt was done only at his lower torso, and his pants hugged his legs like a second skin. Unlike Louis’ other guests, the demon refused to leave his Master’s side from under the shadow of his silver crafted mask. No one but those Louis had informed knew a demon was in their midst.

“I’m thirsty.” Vlad was seated in the chair Louis leaned against, peering up at his protector as the epitome of innocence.

Louis was scanning the crowd when he replied. “If I gave you water, would you drink it without requesting alcohol?”

The leopard answered by hiding a fraction of his face against Louis’ hip, purring loudly. He drew the attention of all the shapeshifters in the vast ballroom irrespective of how far apart they were, and soon the ceiling vibrated with the growls or roars of various intrigued creatures. Vlad paid them no mind and continued to nuzzle Louis’ waist while his curled fingers tugged on the latter’s belt until he got a suitable response.

Louis had to place his hand on Vlad’s nape and pet in slow, reassuring strokes. Silk moved beneath his palms as the restless leopard fidgeted to grant more access to his skin. “What’s bothering you so much tonight?”

His leopard was never one to hesitate when asked a direct question, which just made him dearer to Louis’ heart. “Do you see the Elder with the red hair?”

It was no task to locate a head of fiery hair amongst an otherwise dull crowd. Louis spotted the female near Harry chatting with the Queen who earned no one’s respect. There was a time when an Elder travelled across the sea under the assumption that the King had wed Louis, who has far more to his name than spiteful Ana. The Queen stormed out while Harry laughed, hiding his sorrow expertly.

“I do.”

Vlad shuddered under Louis’ tender grasp, burrowing deeper into his most familiar scent. “She said I’d make a wonderful start to her collection.”

Louis swallowed thickly, rage reinforcing a lump in his throat as he thought the obvious. The Elder was beautiful, no doubt, in a dainty kind of way and he was going to slice through her if she dared to approach Vlad again. “She’s not going to touch you, V.”

“I know.” The settling leopard replied, showing no strain or doubt in his words. He trusted Louis to keep him safe. “I’m still thirsty.”

His protector laughed before playfully twisting the shifter’s ear. Lucien is a foreboding presence at Louis’ back with his shimmering goblet of wine and unrelenting smirk. He was also securing a belt loop on Louis’ pants for his own. A server came about and Louis had all their drinks replenished, including Elijah’s. The minotaur had taken a seat beside Vlad while the leopard still burrowed securely into Louis’ front, as if he were carving out a home for himself.

“You aren’t thirsty now?” Louis asked the concealed leopard, holding two glasses of the world’s finest intoxicant.

Vlad tilted his head back and parted his lips, but Louis amusedly shook his head. He was not going to baby his beasts no matter how refined the urge; the only exception was sometimes made to Elijah who was still learning the functions of proper utensils. Although not too glad with having to serve himself, Vlad downed the beverage in slow sips.

“Hey.” Louis sometimes felt like a tarp when more than one of his own held onto him from alternate angles, as Lucien and Vlad did now when he went to Elijah. He brushed back the minotaur’s hair and smiled at the haphazard bronze braid the locks had been bound in. “How are you doing tonight?”

Elijah grunted, simmering down when Louis’ eyes grew worried. “Am fine.”

Louis knew untruths especially when they came from his own. “Did that Elder also say something to you?”

No answer.

With a sigh and gulp that swallowed the remnants of his champagne, Louis grabbed Lucien’s collar. The demon was most pleased to be pulled close, warm breath fanning the face of his leader without the scent of alcohol. “Yes Master?”

“Stay with them.” Louis gestured to the seated portion of their company. “Do not leave their side until I return. What will you do if someone comes to bother them?”

Lucien was serious, absorbing every word. “End them.”

“Maybe try turning them around first. Nobody touches them or you, understood?”

“Most clearly, Master.”

Louis nodded and drifted from their party on edge, aiming as he weaved through the bodies for the Elder that insulted his reputation and those under his care. Vampires always had a misleadingly wonderful scent to other races, meant to act along with their breath-taking features as bait for their prey. Having them close in around him as they went about their petty conversations and got drunk on either the alcohol or volunteer’s circling the room as donors for their craving. Louis slipped underneath a waiter’s arm and narrowly avoided slipping on the intricate tiled flooring, before coming to a halt altogether.

He glanced back over his shoulder and surely, there was Lucien guarding Vlad and Elijah as he was asked. The demon didn’t need a body of untamed muscle or blood dripping down his hands for people to stay away even if they were unaware of what he was. Lucien carried an aura Louis had never seen before and none of the other demons under his wing possessed either. The reason had shocked Louis more than anything else. Lucien was the first demon Morlock created and was with the essence of a bat, was granted a second form in which he had ghastly leather wings and claws.

“Louis?” The voice was coming from the royal circle he’d just invaded, and belonged to the finest among them.

Harry was gazing at him curiously from a foot away, his knuckles suddenly white because he could not close that gap. Underneath it all was a hidden little secret emotion just for Louis, like devotion and adoration that bred their own superior affection. Anyone with strong enough senses could tell they were mates, bonded by a thread that can never be severed. Everyone chose to ignore it. The King was married to one he despised to mated to a rising force in their ranks.

“Oh.” He snapped out of it when he realised that staring at the King, a man not meant for him by order of the council, was _taboo._ Louis turned to his target, and studied her delicate features in the beginnings of unadulterated hatred. Her name was whispered into his mind from Lucien - a voice recently acquainted with the depths of his thoughts. “May I speak with you, Regina?”

The Elder’s eyes grew wide along with all the rest that knew little about Louis. He was not meant to know her name without being directly introduced and as an Elder, was to be addressed respectfully. Louis was not vampire in any piece of his genetics and neglected such formalities when this horrid woman earned no right to it. He tapped his foot as a show of impatience.

“You can speak here. There is nothing you could mean for me that these people need not know.” Her voice, like coarse marble, made Louis want to cover his ears.

He smirked and through an indestructible connection with the King, felt a hint of suspicion. Harry was watching their exchange as if he were to be later examined on it. Louis wanted to pull out a weapon for this arrogant bloodsucker but would not make passive threats on such a fine occasion. He was going to be direct and earnest.

“Fine.” He stepped closer to her, nearly within a lover’s proximity when many eyes fell on them from far reaches of the hall. When Louis spoke it was in the voice of a protector and guardian, someone who would shed blood for those he cared about. “You said to me and mine that which troubled them and downright pissed me off. To threaten my companions is to challenge me, Regina.” He paused to smirk at her alarm. “I warn you now, once and for the last time. If you lay a hand on anyone under my protection I will find you and make your only wish be that you hadn’t lived this long. Are we clear, sugar?”

*    *    *    *    *

Harry bolted the door to his study shut before turning to face his hidden lover, clouded by the shadows cast by the absence of light. His fangs were extended, lips curled in fiercely contradictory emotions and took cautious strides towards Louis. The polished golden cufflinks to his suit went first, then his pressed jacket and the first couple buttons popped under Harry’s collar.

“You publicly threatened the daughter of a council member.” The King said huskily, peering into the darkness crowding Louis with his rabbiting pulse. He licked his lips at the sensual thumping.

Louis smiled shamelessly and ran his palms up Harry’s oddly heated skin, stopping to wrap his hands around the King’s neck. He led Harry’s mouth to his neck whilst arching it to the side, gasping audibly at the puncturing of his flesh by familiar canines. His blood surges towards the wound, bathing the pointed molars invading his body.

“What’s to be my punishment?” Louis breathed, lost deeply in relishing the drawing of his blood into Harry’s body. He lost the edge of his fury with the union with his mate.

Harry’s chest made a deep rumble before backing his lover up against the solid wall, yanking once with all his strength to rip Louis’ trousers. He parted his lips to seal over where he continued to feed whilst hoisting his boy into his arms. “I am your King and will therefore accept your repentance directly.”

Louis panted brokenly and his eyes rolled back into his skull. “I won’t apologise. She had no right to approach my party so nastily tonight.”

“Hush, my fair warrior.” Harry took Louis’ face in his hands and kissed the boy with crimson pigment still painting his lips. “You were within your limits and I will see to it that the council does not seek a means to punish you.”

“They wouldn’t dare.” Louis mutters jokingly but grows silent when Harry’s mirroring expression is one of rapt attentiveness.

“No.” Harry whispered, tracing his knuckle down the arch of Louis’ jaw. He spoke cryptically but covered Louis’ body with his own too soon to be questioned. “They would not.”

*    *    *    *    *

 _“But I reckon I got to light out for the Territory ahead of the rest, because Aunt Sally she’s going to adopt me and sivilize me, and I can’t stand it. I been there before.”_ Louis finishes one of his favourite Mark Twain tales before sealing the book with the remarkable story hiding amongst them. “The end.”

A most recent tradition of theirs arose when Elijah asked if he could read to Vlad as if it were a recurring gift for the loveable creature. Vlad was no less eager and often found a perch closest to the minotaur’s chest where he could lace the uneven narration of fiction with a familiar heartbeat. Louis joined merely at Elijah’s request again but when the novels grew to be more advanced, he read to them.

“It’s almost three o’clock.” Louis informs his cosy companions. He listens to Vlad’s feline purr whilst combing through his silver hair, smoothing it back so the owner might rest more comfortably. “Have you no objections to being his comfort pillow, Eli?”

The minotaur leans instantly into Louis’ palm when the touch is offered. He releases a series of subtle growls to let their protector know how grateful he is without words. Louis will never let himself forget those first few days with all his creatures when he made meticulous efforts to memorise their habits. “Is an honour.”

Vlad preens at the response and lets Elijah continue caressing his back and thighs without intentions for more. “Are you sleeping here tonight?”

“No, _mon chat._ ” Louis doesn’t need to feign sadness for his voice to carry the emotion in a minuscule dosage. He loves all those who belong to him and having them in three different locations at the hour of sleep has made him feel strained. “I’ve asked you both if moving in with the pack was an option.”

“It wasn’t at the time.” The leopard reiterates from the last time the subject was brought up. “Eli needed to be here.”

“He can come to the castle every day or just when he needs to.” Louis sighs, recalling the festival of dread that caused him to come undone tonight. “I don’t want you two around when the other covens start coming in.”

Elijah became flustered with alarm. “More?”

Louis eased him with a jovial peck on the beast’s cheek. “They’re gathering for this….heinous ceremony. I know nothing about the proceedings so it’s best if any of mine are as out of their reach as possible.”

“What about the King?”

With a lazy exhale aimed at the ceiling, Louis drops onto his back so he can take a sliver of space on the mattress. He stares unblinkingly at the drapery hanging over the bed posts in all their crimson glory. “He cannot go against ancient laws set by the first born vampires thousands of years ago. The Elders here now are the least of our worries.”

Something cold teased the curve of Vlad’s spine when he turned to look at Louis, brimming with sudden fear. Leopards were simple in mind and at heart. Their fright perfumed the air like sickly gauze trying to suffocate anyone within reach. As the only remaining one’s Bonded, Louis felt the diseased emotion like a machine gun going off in his throat.

“Hey.” He rolled over and pulled Vlad to him, tucking the slightly taller male into him with a graceful arch. Vlad was shivering until their skin met, and he grew still with Louis’ physical presence. “I promised nothing would ever hurt you again, didn’t I?”

Elijah studied their interaction with detached affection until he deemed the time correct to join. He was not agile about it either as his bulky size would never allow for movements like that. Louis didn’t hesitate to let the minotaur in behind him.

“Both of you.” He said softly into Vlad’s ear whilst Elijah let his own leg in between Louis’. “You have nothing to worry about anymore.”

When Vlad parted his lips again it was so withered a voice that Louis felt as if he’d failed in his duty to them. “Will the Count be here?”

It was acceptable to have such anxiety around even the name of a vampire so infamous. Count was born as Stefan Vasile two hundred years before Harry was thought of by his parents. He was nightmarish as a young Immortal and could only worsen to a tyrant of bloody standards when he became Count Vasile, sole heir to one of the oldest bloodlines. The rumours surrounding him were far from merely unsettling.

The walls of his fort ran red with the history of blood spilt, only one room in their entire estate actually having been painted with the maroon fluid. The Count’s own bedroom it was and word was that he refreshed the walls with a new coat of blood every week. He had wanted a bride not long ago and when the girl he asked refused him, sewed a wedding ring onto her finger and burned her alive before his ghouls were set on her remains.

Louis had met him once accidentally when Count came to the Styles castle for Harry’s birthday ball. He was not invited and Louis didn’t care to remember that Vasile is one who instilled disconcertion in even their Immortal King. Stefan had marred Louis’ memories at the time with his undead eyes more than the steel embedded across his heart to protect the organ that mattered most. They were deep red at the pupil and white replacing the usually tinted iris so the rest of the eyeball was matching the pupil.

As a young fighter and still flourishing in his training, Louis was unprotected against Stefan’s advances until he displayed an attitude to the Count that was never witnessed before. Bravery was Louis’ most keen trait and he stood his ground when the towering vampire destroyed his personal space. Louis got only strike in before Stefan sent him crashing down the stairs. The Count jogged down the steps a moment after Louis’ attack with his neck just starting to knit itself together, his clothing stained by the flowing redness.

He had crouched beside Louis’ trembling form and silenced the boy’s pained moans with a forced kiss. Louis screamed against his mouth before trying to free himself but failed until after the Count took his vein, drawing some of the sweetest blood into his system. Before letting the puncture wounds close, some of Louis’ blood was captured by a quaint crystal pendant and worn around the Count’s neck.

“Don’t let him bother you.” Louis dragged himself out of his memories so he may comfort Vlad’s worries. “It’s unlikely he’ll try anything.”

Vlad looked at him disbelievingly. The Count is anyone’s nightmare so why should they not be terrified of him? “He chopped up the attendants the King gave him.”

“Bad man.” Elijah contributed.

“ _Trust me._ ” Louis hooked his arms around them and smiled, embracing his creatures dearly. “He’s a friend.”

“Friend?” Elijah blinked, stunned.

Vlad jumped upright and made a wounded noise in his throat. “The Count has no friends.”

Louis bit his lip in trepidation before deciding what to say. “Stefan stayed here for a few months long ago and he trained me for much of that time. He carries my blood around his neck and I have his dagger. Believe me, loves, he is not going to try anything.”

“Friend.” Elijah repeated, contemplating just how foreign the idea was when related to the dreadful Count.

Vlad sat up and crossed his bare legs. “Are you saying that just to make us feel better?”

“No. If he was a threat then you’d know. Now, are you coming with me to the Weres?”

His endearing leopard was a little conflicted about whether or not Count Vasile should be such a passing topic when his personality demanded the forefront of attention. “Did you ask Tore if it’s okay?”

“He won’t mind.” Louis slips off the bed in one fluid motion and swipes the best blade in his collection off the nightstand. He remains transfixed for a moment by the family emblem at the hilt, embossed with steel and reading **_SV_**.

*    *    *    *    *

Louis had his companions packed with their essentials and was about to lead them away from the safety of the bedroom when a shrill cry from beyond the door had him pushing them back. He could sense nothing of a fierce or deadly nature but he could only pick up on things dangerous to his own well-being. It was not effective when guarding others.

He chose a Glock 19 over his surviving dagger and pointed it at the floor when he cracked the door open, slipping through in a fluid motion. His shoes squeak against the tiles and he searches for the thumping of his pulse that used to reside in his temples when a weapon was in his hand. The sound almost never ensued anymore and Louis did not like to think that it was because he was getting comfortable with the world of killing.

Laying on the corridor floor was a female servant of the castle, shot to paralysis by the bullet that is fear. Her dress fanned out around her and the column of her neck was distorted unnaturally. Louis looked up and sighed in exasperation at the seven bodies hanging by their feet above the balcony’s barrier.

“Geez.” He holstered his firearm against his hip and stepped around the unconscious woman to approach his demons.

The wind howled but they did not sway despite the only weighty assurance being their clawed feet hooked on the roof’s last row of tiles. Lucien was front and centre, his leathery wings that could totally cocoon him with a guest sat jobless on his shoulders. The other half dozen possessed beings let out hisses in unison when Louis came to them, twelve arms reaching out so one might be that which Louis touches first. They were mindless and did as told without question while Lucien remained the only demon among their kiss with the ability to think.

“Did you reveal yourself to her?” Louis sounded angry, the way he meant it. It has been no small task keeping the fact that his demons frequented the castle’s halls a secret. He stopped the thoughtless grappling to hold him by slapping the first one to reach him.

Lucien had none of the grace to look ashamed. He swiftly righted himself and landed on the floor an inch too close to Louis. “No, Master.”

Louis did not step back and waited for the other six to come closer. He marched back to the door, narrowly escaping Lucien’s hand intended for his waist ignorantly. Sounds were coming from either side and Louis knew that guards would fall on them soon. “Mask your eyes.”

All seven demons did as told, forcing their eye colour from red to brown. Louis left the bedroom door alone for now when armoured men came into view. It was best to leave Vlad and Elijah out of this small debacle.

“My Lord.” They slipped into the worst luck when Harry’s highest ranking War Lord, a shapeshifting cobra, made a path through the four guards before them. He hated Louis for all the power the boy wielded over the King. “Does His Highness know you’re in the company of these men?”

Louis offered up his sweetest smile for the slaughter. “Do you see something the King ought to know urgently, General?”

The half snake’s gaze shifted from Louis to the seven behind him, hiding his true emotions excellently. Rage is very difficult to camouflage. “Plenty, my Lord.”

There was a time when Louis would have argued until he was blue in the face and got nowhere with his defence. He was no longer naïve. “Me too, Gen.”

*    *    *    *    *

Tyerant was waiting for them at the edge of the treeline when the muffled footing of horses finally came to an end. Elijah never got on another animal and was proud to channel his beastly traits in travel; his hooves broke earth when he ran to keep up with the horses. Vlad rode alongside Louis after the castle’s gates slammed shut on them.

“My Lou.” Tye did not attempt to help Louis off Sovereign’s saddled back as he did not want to face their leader’s wrath. “You’re later than usual.”

“I’m sorry. We got held up by the General.” Louis replied whilst getting to his feet and making sure Vlad was too.

A silhouette materialised from the trees’ darkness. The youngest of their horde came into their company without unease expressed by the presence of seven demons at Louis’ back like a morbid wall of undead muscle. Matthew grinned at Louis, displaying his youth with zero creases except those at the corners of his mouth. “I thought you were staying at the castle tonight.”

Tye, as a present older Were, had the responsibility to rectify any noticeable flaws in a younger one’s mannerisms. He smacked Matthew at the back of his head with a growl. “You greet your Lord before addressing him further.”

“Apologies, my Lord.” The youngster spoke timidly now whilst rubbing the back of his skull. He kept his eyes to the floor after that, ashamed of his slip-up.

Louis shakes his head at Tyerant when Matthew was looking elsewhere, withholding the words at the tip of his tongue. Such stern treatment and guidance within the Horde was of utmost importance, as none but warriors were included in the pack. They only took heed of violence at times.

“The pack’s waiting.” Tye says casually, watching when Louis pulls Sovereign into the trees with him, risking his gun hand so he can hold Matthew’s arm in silent comfort. “Tore’s about ready to torch the pack house if he has to wait any longer.”

Louis feels a light thread in the Were horde that Matthew represented melt into a suit of reassurance because their Lou is touching him exclusively. “Your brother has been-“

“Your Alpha you mean?”

Ignoring the comment but still adding effort to keep the blush from reaching his cheeks. The Were’s treated Louis as the mate to their Alpha regardless of an absent bonding ceremony. “Your brother has been itching to build that pack house by himself for as long as he’s not been allowed to.”

Louis being the only living thing that Tore took orders from did nothing to help Louis’ cause of proving his only beloved is Harry. He loves his beasts with an unfathomable amount of affection but his love was in a different compartment for them.

Nothing more is said for the entire trek into the woods beyond the territory that outsiders walked to rush through the trees. The Weres often gloated about how the fragrance of their fear caused their howls and aroused them from their cores. Louis would lend them his ear while trying to refrain from his proud expression or immature giggles. Having the trust of his pack members meant so much to him.

The different homes in which the Weres resided were hidden amidst the tree trunks that were laden with moss and crawling with little critters. Louis could hear the deer and larger animals that his Weres hunted, or sense their sharp movements in their efforts to avoid being trampled. All the light from any cottages have been turned off as any member of the horde had retired to the pack house, largest and sturdiest of them all, so they could witness the discussion of an issue that Tore ought to bring up.

“Am I really not allowed to know what this is about?” Louis asks when they have a good few feet more to travel.

Tye answered him after slowing his pace so he may walk beside Louis. “Do you not wish to be here?”

“Of course I want to be here. Any problem of the pack is my priority.” He says truthfully. “The suspense is almost too much to handle however.”

“I am truly sorry, my Lou.” The Alpha’s brother sounds remarkably genuine. “My brother has sworn us all to secrecy until he can speak with you himself.”

The pack house is like a brightly illuminated mansion that lacks materialistic value but has more than its fair share of glowing warmth. Louis felt his nerves untangle themselves and sizzle with power as he’s exposed to the full-blown force of his pack in one space. It’s fierce and like a live wire soaring through the thinnest cavity in his spine. Breathing in deep renders his lungs full with the air that’s carrying intoxicating dosages of Were scent. Louis was not so drawn to or fond of any scent the way he became after spending time with the owner.

Stepping through the door, Louis leaves his door in the poorly furnished foyer and drops his cloak over a discarded desk. Matthew goes on ahead with Tyerant while Vlad and Elijah hang back. “Something the matter?”

Vlad shakes his head, staring at the doorway ahead of them that’s gaping and inviting. The presence of a fireplace causes the orange light to flicker and crackle. “It feels safe here.”

Louis smiled broadly and with enthusiasm. “It does, doesn’t it?”

To accommodate something like six hundred fully grown Were soldiers, the walls separating the lounge from any other room had to be torn down. The open floor plan allowed for a vast expanse of space that suited majority of Louis’ fighters perfectly, while those remaining sat comfortably on the staircase.

So many eyes turned to their Lord when Louis walked in, the previous commotion coming to an abrupt death. First there was silence while Louis directed Vlad and Elijah to find a seat wherever it was available, before testosterone-filled growls began to triumph. Lucien takes the other demons to the far wall, forming a line against the peeling wallpaper. The barren air above their heads turned to something hot and stimulated by the intimacy of a complete pack united at their best hour.

Tore stood tensely at the forefront of the crowd and he was observing Louis intently, his knuckles whitening when they curled in unspoken agony. Louis frowned at the response to his presence; Torement never expressed such vivid rage unless he was under pressure. He looked around and found them all staring just as uneasily at him, which only nurtured his concern until the pulse of his simmering blood was audible in his ears.

Serious matters that triggered such emotions from the pack were not to be trifled with or taken lightly. Louis resumed his right as their Lord and weaved his way to the raised platform where Tore stood in his suffocating leather pants and straining white vest. Being nearly fully clothed was also an awful sign.

Regardless of Louis’ fears and doubts, the Weres seated in no particular pattern reached over one another to graze his skin where it was exposed. He held some of their hands momentarily and smiled when Wroth and Troy placed even kisses to his hip. Whatever it is that’s brought them together to consult with him, was not going to end badly for him.

“Louis.” Torement breathes his name rather than says it soundly. The Were Alpha had a foot on Louis in height and had to lean in at an uncomfortable angle to touch Louis’ lips with his own in an acceptable union. Something was in the lingering of Tore’s mouth over his, the same burden that troubled the grey of his eyes. “You honour us by being here tonight.”

Their Lord smiles courteously up at Torement, gracefully accepting their sentiment. Louis takes a shaky deep breath that just escapes whistling past his teeth, and Tore notices. He is not one for comforting although he tries by brushing Louis’ parted lips with the pad of his thumb, straightening up after kissing the other’s forehead.

“I am honoured to be invited.” Louis says when he finally gathers his wits about him. Weres were some of the most traditional races still in existence and slipping up in their rites would only serve to offend the horde.

Torement takes a step back from Louis so he may guide the latter towards a couch that went previously unnoticed. It was the only bit of furniture that earned a place in their pack house, because it symbolised the coming together of the Weres to tackle any inevitable drama. Made of gleaming black leather with a steel rod structure keeping its cushions in position, the couch was more dreaded now that anticipated. The Alpha and Lord always sat on it, placing themselves apart from the pack during the politics that was solely their responsibility.

Louis sat in his customary place against one armrest, folding his legs beneath him with athletic agility that went unnoticed because it was so common. Torement took up the space beside him once Louis was certainly comfortable, laying a hand on the boy’s knee. Something about the act made Louis frown; too tense and distracted was it to merely dictate affection.

Torement was showing favouritism to the rest of the pack on Louis’ part. This realisation thrust Louis into an ocean of panic. “The entire pack is present. This quandary cannot be of a light heart.”

“It is not.” Tore sighed, sounding resigned. He squeezed Louis’ knee in his meaty fist and did not seem to notice when his fingers wrapped around the boy’s lower thigh. “This horde is yours and mine. However, they have brought their troubles to us as if we were a separate party. I asked them not to confront you until tonight.”

Louis’ heart turned leaden with anguish. His Weres looked at him now as a separate party, an entity apart from their lives that needs to be consulted. It stung in too many places to look at so many faces of his lovely wolves while he was facing rejection. Could they be deciding to break ties with him despite his reign? An unhappy grumble came from the pack in unison, a crescendo of heartache that was in tandem with Louis.

“What are their troubles?” He could hardly glance away from the pack when his voice threatened to crack. They were mirroring his agony which only further confused him.

Torement cast his gaze to the ground for a moment before watching Louis the way he did when they walked through the doorway. “They-“

“Wait.” Louis held his hand up, raising his head from its defeated bow. “Who was the one to bring it up first?”

The Alpha did not hesitate. “Grym.”

Louis instantly found those particular set of eyes in the crowd and raised his brow. Grym, brother to Richard and one of the most skilled hunters any pack has ever had, looked pained. He stood nonetheless when Louis motioned him forward, stopping at the edge of the platform. “My Lord.”

The last thing Louis wanted was for this to become a saturnine experience on either side, the way vampires ran their council meetings. He stood up and went to Grym but did not step down from the height advantage. The Were was the voice of others’ concerns and perhaps his own but he would not have fallen forward so instantaneously when Louis approached if he did not feel somewhat apologetic.

“Is the issue just yours, Grym?” Louis asked slowly, absentmindedly carding his fingers through the Were’s deep brown hair.

A shake of his head was felt against Louis’ abdomen, two large paws gripping the sides of his shirts. “No.”

“Tore.” Something about the gathering became unsettled. Louis licked his lips in an act of patience. “Tell me the problem now.”

“The pack has incited one of our oldest laws that can go neglected no more.” Torement obliged from somewhere behind Louis, leaning uncomfortable against the back of the couch. “They fear that no strength can be shown by a clan whose Lord is unmated to their Alpha.”

Louis tries not to let his pulse thicken or at least have the others realise how anxious the topic makes his nerves. Grym reluctantly lets go when Louis withdraws from his arms, turning to consider this meeting’s reason. “You are the last Were pack in these lands. How can this fact alone fail to exert the pride of dominance?”

From within the crowd another Were seated on the staircase speaks up. Ryan, one of the few with minimal scarring because he preferred guns over fighting with bare fists. He bowed his head briefly as a show of respect before voicing his bit. “Another pack has come to be across the ocean. They are smaller than us, less than a hundred.”

“But they can grow.” Louis whispers what they’re each thinking. “We do not compare our pack to outsiders.”

Tore intervenes. “They are not outsiders if our ancestors are of the same blood, my Lou. We must treat them as competitors.”

Louis clears his throat but the lump remains. “And we have the upper hand except for an unmated Alpha, yes?”

“Aye.”

“My lord, if you and our Alpha remain unmated it leaves all of us vulnerable. They have the right to claim this pack.” Grym says in a strained voice. His brows scrunch together in a frown as if upset by his own words.

“They have to kill your present leaders first.” Louis shuts down the mere thought of his Weres belonging to some stranger from a faraway land. “That is not something easily accomplished.”

Tore had a poorly stifled grin of pride and self-satisfaction. Louis made them all delighted by knowing their laws. “This is true but a challenge to Alpha pair is the greatest insult to any clan.”

“Fine.” Louis runs his hand through his own hair in fervent thought. “I will meet with the Alpha of that pack and gauge his intentions.”

Ryan looked more affronted by this suggestion. “Would it be so unimaginable to mate our Alpha, my Lord?”

Louis’ shoulders ache even when he rolls them to ease the tightness. “To mate Torement would be nothing short of a wealthy honour but I am already bonded to another.”

“Multiple ties between hearts are as revered as single ones, my Lord.” Wroth now added from where he was standing against the wall across from Louis with his arms crossed. He, just like the rest of them, was more sincere in their propositions than arrogant.

The prospect was no appalling even to unfamiliar ears because polyamorous bonds were growing more common. More and more Immortals are realising that love was not merely a two-way street as their civilisation was far more advanced as the mortal humans. Whether their reasons were practical or amorous, Louis commended their devotion.

Torement’s presence was like hot coal at Louis’ back and the most exquisite heat was expelled when a hand settled on Louis’ hip. “You will not press this topic anymore, _Fera.”_

Using the old term for pack had them all silenced, including Louis. Hearing the ancient mother tongue come from the Alpha made him hot under the collar. “They are free to say anything to me if it is important to them. This is their home that means security and it is our responsibility to grant it.”

*    *    *    *    *

Louis was not going to return to the castle until dusk settled and night fell, as he was going to be part of the welcoming company for arriving covens. For now he settled into the cottage that belonged to Tore and Tye, pacing back and forth beside a boarded up window. Vlad was asleep already with Elijah to keep him company in the bedroom, while the demons slept standing up in the living room.

This study was mostly unused except for when Louis was here and in need of some solitude. An obvious alteration to the circumstances was that Louis was in the presence of his two most commanding Weres. Louis had abandoned his shoes and socks when the splintered wood floor ripped through the latter. He didn’t stop striding back and forth even if his feet were pricked by the coarse wood, and his skin was crusty from blood.

Tore’s eyes never left Louis once while the latter let his taut mind overrule his actions. Louis worried until it made him feel ill and his thoughts were forever corrupt by the latest bothersome tragedy. He chewed his lip incessantly until the flesh was cut and it bled in a thin river down his chin.

The pack was unhappy with the current state of their hierarchy and wanted Louis to be mated to fasten their pack’s boundaries. Nobody from the outside could barge into their territory demanding sanctuary of the highest order if he sealed a bond with Tore. There was much fondness in place already between them but crossing the border between friends and intimates was something Louis thought possible for them.

“What do you think?” Louis asked without looking up. He sounded lost in himself.

Tore failed to restrain himself any further. He stalked across the room and gathered Louis up into his arms even when his Lord resisted without any weapons. The sweet scent of blood staining the floor and Louis’ skin filled Tore’s senses. “The decision is yours, my Lou.”

Sitting now on the couch while his perch remained Tore’s lap, Louis bent his knees and felt exhaustion like an overwhelming symptom. He looked the Alpha in the eye. “I don’t like not knowing what to do, Tore.”

The other male released a pained rumble at the boy’s inner struggle that felt like a tidal wave through their chests. “You do know what to do, _nala.”_

Louis recognises the old endearment with a groan. “Don’t call me that. It only makes me hurt more.”

A soft growl was emitted from Tore’s ribcage and he leaned in to nuzzle Louis’ neck, tasting salt on the skin and allowing his aggravation to escalate in response to the boy’s pain. He nipped at the pale expanse that’s laden with their Lord’s scent so he can bathe just the most wounded part of him in it as well. Louis hates and loves being this close with the Were because it felt like their feelings were one, their thoughts coming from one mind.

Tore opened up a pathway between them that allowed Louis some peace of mind. He secured the vacant side of Louis’ throat with his palm whilst teasing the dampened portions with his teeth and lips. Blood was a nauseating taste when it was Louis’ and tears were like poison.

“I’m mated already, Tore.” Louis said, finding steel in his words when Harry was brought to mind. “I won’t abandon him.”

The Alpha heaved Louis up properly onto his lap and did not raise his head from the arch of Louis’ neck. It was too divine even in isolation. “Perhaps you must speak to the King. He has married for the sake of his rule but your reason will undoubtedly be more humble.”

“I will be mating for the safety of my Weres.” Louis clasped Tore’s shoulders and blinked past the blurriness of his vision, breathing deep and shakily. “That’s not fair to you.”

“I disagree. To have you as my mate would be the deepest privilege any of my kind has ever earned.” Tore pulled back and cupped Louis’ cheek gently, dwarfing the delicate face in his hold. His grey eyes became warm and tender – a completely foreign expression – from their religious hostility. “At least allow me the fortune of courting you, _nala._ If you need your heart to be won, allow me to be the champion.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it? o.O


	4. IV

The last of the arriving vampire covens had settled their carriages in the King’s personal yard and were welcomed into the glorious castle with servants and escorts. Sixteen covens in total were present for their ceremonial gathering in a few nights but would meet the King this evening when the shutters were up to discuss their privileges. The older covens required entertainment in the form of lovers and blood donors while the ones with less standing could only take what is offered to them.

Except their King was not readying himself to receive them or even bothered his patience with acquiring the suitable social skills. Harry was _livid_ even now when it’s been seven days since Louis brought to him the most dreadful news. It had made his blood boil until pacing was not enough and he’d taken to tearing the room apart in his fit of rage. Two bedrooms were ripped to pieces by the time Harry was controlled enough to utter words of argument.

Louis let him get the worst of his anger out whilst casting his gaze to his bare feet and remained silent. He had to wipe his damp cheeks more than twice when hot tears streamed down his face, displaying for him how conflicted his heart was. Harry was a human mass of rage, agony and frightful strength with fangs. He locked Louis in his presence for six whole days while his domineering nature refused to accept another lover for his beloved.

They starved in the King’s destroyed bedroom because Harry disallowed any visitors for any reason no matter how valid. He rejected Louis’ offers for the King to feed so he might feel the same deprivation as his boy. They sat with their backs to opposite walls for hours on end, separated by a trench of destruction while their eyes were locked. Harry would sometimes feel brave enough to push Louis under him and join their bodies in a fury of passion, taking everything from his lover until they’d withered together.

The Immortal King hated himself. He had not fought hard enough against the decision to wed his troublesome wife and now Louis had the same obligation to fulfil. However even with their denial of the facts, Louis’ feelings for Torement were nothing like Harry’s for Ana. Louis loved his Weres and will do anything for them while Tore held a special place in Louis’ heart as the one had to be rescued by the other to bring them together.

Harry’s head hung low, his chin touching his chest. His voice reverberated like the hiss of a serpent narrowing in on its prey. “Your Alpha is most loyal for he has already captured much of your favour. I can see it in your eyes, beloved.”

Louis met Harry’s gaze and shivered at their golden slitted state. He hugged his knees to his chest and felt the burn in his muscles, the tautness of his malnourished skin. His fey half was struggling with the absence of the sun. “He has.”

The King released an aggrieved growl, trailing off with a low snarl.

“What do you want me to say, Harry?” Louis ignored the sting of his eyes and snapped at his lover’s reaction. “Lying to you can only be cruel of me. You don’t deserve that.”

Harry scoffed. “I do not want to share the love of my life, my whole world, with a furry-“

“Harry.”

“You defend him to me.” Harry let his head fall back against the wall, banging his skull against the concrete without pause until Louis scrambled over to him. “This will end me, my fair warrior. The mere thought of allowing you, my heart, to be with another is as if I’m already dead.”

Louis put his palm to the back of Harry’s skull and let his forehead lean against the latter’s when he felt moisture, the warm stickiness of blood. He cried softly and held his King’s face in his hands, feeling his tears being kissed away. “It won’t. You’re going to live as long as I do so neither of us is ever alone.”

Harry sounds throttled when he speaks through a lump in his throat. “I’ll do anything. Don’t let me lose you.”

There was nothing Louis could suggest, no loophole to instate. He could only shake his head and embrace his King with all the strength he had left.

“I’ll kill her.” Harry did not let Louis pull away. “I’ll get rid of Ana and we can marry.”

Louis was once a most keen admirer of the ideal but allowing a life to be lost when the matter with his Weres would remain unresolved seemed pointless. “No, my love. You must let this happen.”

Harry touched Louis’ hollow cheek and sneered at the lingering scent of Torement even if the Were has not been near his lover for days. A wolf’s scent is not easily masked when it comes to courting. “You care for him deeply enough to let his scent cling to your skin.”

“Hush.” Louis latched onto Harry’s earlobe and moaned for an array of arousals, shuddering when large hands cupped his bottom firmly. “Please feed from me, my King.”

Harry resists at first, shifting away from Louis’ throbbing pulse as much as he can until his lover applies the last of his power in convincing. Weakened by his lack of nutrition and Harry’s power keeping all intruders at bay caused a tick in Louis’ mind. He breathes in deep and flexes his fingers until the knuckles curl inward, turning page white in tandem with the bulbs blowing out. His gift when it came to bending electricity allowed Louis to snap the finest wires conducting the rush of light, feeding his dying health with the dregs of electricity. The chandelier crashes to the marble floor and the lamps burst into petite shards that scatter across the worn waxed surface. Neither lover winces.

 _“Feed.”_ Louis’ voice can be likened to a heated sizzle. He brings Harry’s mouth to his neck and sighs in relief when his beloved’s fangs pierce his skin.

Folding his argument in favour of succumbing to bloodlust, Harry revels in the explosion of the sweetest taste. He grabs Louis’ hands to interlock their fingers, sucking long and desperately to douse the fire of starvation. Louis tosses his head back to bask in one of their most intimate acts, something he’ll never share with another lover. Harry licks over the open wound to seal it, and drags his tongue over the cushion of his lips.

“My king.” Louis shivered as he watched the features on his lover being rejuvenated. Pale skin became flushed and Harry’s fangs remained elongated, hooked against the flesh above his chin. He received Louis’ kiss in a drunken state, securing the back of Louis’ neck and skull.

Everything goes dark for Louis shortly after Harry lifts him up into his arms.

*    *    *    *    *

A crash woke Louis after the longest sleep he’s ever allowed himself. There was much to recuperate from and his body needed the rest more than the digestible nutrients. He blinked up at the foreign ceiling partially blocked by the bedpost drapery before trying to regain use of his limbs. The relief in feeling a twitch in his fingers and toes was crowded by someone causing the sink in his mattress, and the evident appeal of a familiar scent renders him less lucid. He parts his lips to let the warmth sink into his core, and rotates his pupils until visibility is reliable. Shouting comes back with his hearing capacity and Louis sits up, bearing minimal dizziness, to find a brawl at the foot of his bed.

The door through which the misplaced individual burst through is hanging loosely one hinge instead of three, the heavy oak serving as a brilliant weight as it tore the steel off the wall. Louis gasped at the destruction caused to this vast bedroom before looking at the battle between the opposing forces in his life.

Harry has unleashed the form of his being that was once considered a curse by his council until the King mastered his ability to wield the unsightly other half. His skin was taut and rubbery, sometimes slick at the blackened joints and around his eyes. Thin resilient wings protruded from his shoulderblades with a spindle-like skeletal structure that kept the taut material together. Louis was not a fan of the wretched uncertainty that came with his beloved’s other face but it was merely another shade of strength he had to embrace.

Tore was present against his most dire rule of sanctuary. He swore to never set foot in the castle but did so now because the fine wire connecting his soul to Louis has been strained and idle for too long. The Were had feared the worst after Louis’ been away from the pack for two weeks after he used to be in their presence every night.

Torement was not any more a man now than he was the ancestor to wolves. His fingers had grown to talons of extensive length, a mutilated muzzle replacing his ordinary jawline and fur sprouting down his hunched shoulders. They were bulkier than what is merely possible for a human; a ribbed abdomen and sculpted arms. Markings of their horde appeared across his chest and neck.

What seizes Louis by the throat is the visual of Tore ripping through Harry’s right wind with four claws until they’re bloody rags of tissue. The King screeches only minutely before spraying crimson splatters at the Were and throwing him across the room with two spikes at the ends of his wings staking Tore’s shoulders. A horrendous crash follows a mass of inhuman muscle falling into a collection of furniture.

Louis rotates his head for a full feel of his nerves before searching for a means to end this nightmare. He locates his gun on the nightstand and checks that it’s loaded before sliding off the mattress.

By the time he regains his balance Harry is securing himself against the highest point on the wall to keep out of Torement’s reach while the Were snarls below him. Louis is aware of his partial nudity but ignores it in favour of getting between the men, slipping into a narrow space and dodging Torement’s swiping dagger-like appendages. He ducks under it uses the momentum created by such a forceful motion to get up on the Were’s shoulders, angling his lower half before twisting with all his might.

Torement growls from the attack on his muscles and fights his primal tendency to fight it. Louis brings the Were to his knees before straightening himself and dividing two of the men in his life with his body. “Enough! What’s the matter with you two?”

Harry hisses with golden orbs and drops to his feet fluidly, his wings already having healed. When he lunges forward Louis uses the barrel of his gun to nudge him back, using an unconquerable amount of strength that causes pain in his arm. The King settles but not gladly.

“We fight because we must.” Harry returns to his regular form with more ease than Tore, glaring at the latter as though he might assassinate him with pure hatred.

Torement’s bones snap and smooth back into his human body, the fur being the last trait to disappear. “This is all we will ever agree on.”

Louis sighs when a dizzy spell strikes his mind but he manages to hide his swaying stance. “No more fighting. _None._ ”

“Why-“

“Because I say so.” Louis curts aggravatedly. He looks between Torement and Harry in torturous distress, his favour for them becoming so divided that it hurts to imagine what would have happened if he was not awoken in time.

A crowd has gathered outside their door, dozens of eyes peering in at the mindboggling scenario before them. Their ruler, the Immortal King with more loyal followers than any before him, was letting himself be dominated by his rage. Such lack of control was unfathomable for a creature of his status.

“We are not your entertainment!” Louis turns towards the inquisitive individuals at their door, glowering at them. “Find something better to do with your time.”

They scatter like spooked field mice and Louis takes a deep breath, looking away from their departure to stomach the problem before him. Two deep-set pairs of eyes with polar opposite hues along with their perspective anger remain transfixed on Louis, gauging every tick in muscle or light breath. Harry felt like the core of an iceberg with his frigid energy; Torement was very open with his frustration with curled fists and gritted teeth.

“What would you expect of us now, beloved?” Harry’s head hung low but his aura of pride remained, although weakened. “How do we get through this?”

Louis sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and failed in trying to ignore the rabbiting of his heart against the clenching enclosure surrounding it. “This is not a mission so there’s no way to _get through_ this. We are going to sit down and discuss this like the adults we are.”

Tore’s growl is unsettled and causes the windows to vibrate with its tension. “As you wish, _nala._ ”

The sound Harry makes is much like nails across a chalkboard, a sound symbolising and personifying his wrath at hearing the endearment from an enemy. “Do _not_ call him that!”

“Hush.” Louis puts his hand on Harry’s chest and grips the shredded lapel of his shirt. Tore scowls at the contact but all three parties remain silent. “Let’s all find a place to sit down so we can discuss this.”

“No.” Tore grunts, crossing his arms with an unflinching expression. “I have nothing to bargain with the leech.”

Harry bares his teeth in a sneer. “And I don’t care to speak with mongrels.”

Louis sighs defeatedly and tries to feel like his panic is dissimilar to leaping off a cliff. The two men romantically linked to him presently or in the future are going to be locking horns until Louis can scream at them no more. “Manners, gentlemen.”

“There will be no communication between us beyond the necessities.” Harry scorns, being as indiscreet as he can when winding an arm ungenerously around Louis’ waist. This has been his warmth for centuries and is not going to willingly part with it. “If this cur believes he may steal from me what is most precious, he should be obliged to ancient Vampire Law. To claim a lover whom belongs to another, the new pursuer must offer worthy gifts to both the beloved and whom they seek to replace.”

“I am not vampire, King.” Tore seethes “I offer your old laws no honour.”

Harry brings his other arm around Louis, braced against the perfectly poised shoulders so he may have his boy against him. Possession of one’s mate in the most threatening circumstances is the trait that surpasses race boundaries; every breed and bloodline bowed before the courtship customs. Louis’ skin awoke under Harry’s touch with shudders that no other Immortal could render.

“All the better.” Harry states grimly. “A gift of the highest order could never compensate for the crime of stealing my mate.”

“Theft is not of any relevance.” Tore looked at Louis and the corner of his mouth twitched undecidedly, making it difficult to decipher whether his mood has sunk or lifted. It retreated quickly. “Matters of my heart are more essential considering it is the organ that gives sustenance to all of my being.”

“Beasts cannot love.” The vengeful King sneers, squeezing Louis’ waist to ground him. His anger was Herculean and vast in its disgust.

Tore is uncharacteristically calm about the ugly insult; Weres proved to be proud creatures that saw defeat only when they could not aptly refute an aggressor. “For monsters that must leech from others to survive, you seem to have proven that accusation incorrect all by yourself.”

“That’s enough.” Louis dismissively waves his hands and clears his throat. At least one thing emanating from his core ought to be unwavering. “You are both not happy about this and I-”

“No, _nala._ ” Tore articulates, eyes like hot coals where he’s most susceptible to others seeing through him. “This courtship is for our pack and if they take no issue with your bond to the King then nor do I.”

Harry scorns at the casual practicality. “Aren’t you the epitome of convenient?”

Louis pinched Harry’s wrist and did not release his lover. It did no fail to make his insides quake and shudder at the thought of jeopardizing a bond that’s been unrelenting for over three centuries in order to secure his pack. However, being the Lord or Lady of one such horde meant that selfless sacrifices must be made for the better of those that did not include the leader. Louis cast his gaze to the floor while a rush of chills exploded from his chest cavity, freezing over the region of his being that is most vital.

He loves Harry with something fierce and wild, an emotion – if such a force can be labelled at all – that could never be replicated. Louis fears losing his lover more than an agonising death on repeat.

Travelling across the ocean seemed like a small price to pay for this devotion. It is Louis’ duty to see their pack out of any darkness and he will do so in a way that requires more sweat than a mating to cowardly shield them. Louis raises his head in a resolved manner.

“We know where the new pack resides across the sea.” Louis breathes, something setting off alarms all around. Blaring sirens went off but he spoke with his gut. “Return to the horde, Tore. Tell them that I am fine and will be with them before dawn.”

“The pack is restless, _nala._ They have been without you for two weeks, a duration that could have been interrupted by a foreign pack seeking claim.”

“I have made up my mind, Torement.” Louis says with a crisp and unusually stern tone. His eyes are the solidified gateways to an uncontrollable set of navy tides, housing in their shoreline more hints of one in charge than ever before. “If my decision offends them then they are free to appeal it in my presence.”

Harry watches Louis go to Torement with steel in his gaze and power charging the atmosphere almost to a degree of suffocation. His little lover is an explicit wonder to the Immortals.

“I love my pack and I treasure their Alpha but a bond is too sacred for it to done in the name of practicality.” Louis says only for Torement’s ears. Grief strikes his expression and Louis does little to mask it. “We will arrive on the stranger’s door in three days and take them under oath. Violating it will mean their slaughter.”

Torement listened to every word intently and his brows drew together the longer Louis spoke, but something like ease powdered his anxiety. The Alpha leaned close enough to whisper in Louis’ ear and kiss behind the lobe. “You have made me very proud this night, _nala._ My mate or not, you will forever be my dearest companion.”

*    *    *    *    *

The King was brought to his knees by the only creature that could. With unfathomable amounts of beauty and intellect from parents that continue to bless the present Immortal world with their memory, Louis has depth to his responsibilities. He lies in bed in wrecked quarters beside the man he wants to see the end of time with, poorly hiding his tears while he wept into Harry’s chest.

A protector is not weak but Louis brings mortality to a title that is revered across any land. He winds his limbs around Harry as far and intricately as they’d go without aching, crying softly until his face is red and his eyes burn from strain. Warm, calloused hands are compassionate enough to caress his arms and back. Louis leans into every arching glide whilst his nude skin cools from being under the orders of frustration.

“Hush.” Harry’s thumb catches a tear that nearly escapes, those frightfully green orbs pinning Louis’ attention. They resembled gems so rare and precious that Louis always thought it spoke astonishingly of Harry’s spirit.

Louis’ hands now framed the King’s face and memorised those familiar features for the umpteenth time, bringing his lover’s visage to his neck. Putting Harry, a creature of the night that had all the power to destroy Louis, near his vein made the owner feel more secure. Blood receded from beneath the skin’s surface so that Louis’ skin grew back to its fair complexion and his heart beat less audibly.

“I can feel everything that’s going on up here.” Harry lays his lips against Louis’ throbbing temple and rolls onto his back so his lover may use him for what he deems necessary. He catches the side of Louis’ face and silences the boy’s whimper with a demanding kiss. “Are you unhappy about the decision you made?”

Shaking his head, Louis sits up and wipes furiously at his eyes. “I am not. I…I’m not a boy from the siren village anymore.”

“This is true.” The King confirms with a slight smile that displays no joy for his lover is in too much pain. He captures Louis’ lips with his own twice, tasting tears in the sweet union. With slumped shoulders and bleary vision, Louis struggles against his own conflict. “You are now the exquisite Immortal who commands seven demons and became the home to six hundred Weres. You are much more than a boy from any village, my fair warrior. You were my consort and now you are my mate.”

Louis nuzzles Harry’s thumping pulse and finds himself subconsciously yearning for the stretch of inhaling lungs. He parts his lips and uselessly sinks his teeth into Harry’s shoulder, wrapping his arms tightly around the man’s neck. “I never want to be rid of you.”

“Excellent.” Harry growls, using both hands to greedily grope his lover’s behind. “I am going to fight every semblance of a being who dares to take you from me.”

Giggling unexpectedly, Louis pulls away to tug on Harry’s curls. “I’ll just put a bullet in them.”

*    *    *   *   *

The mass of shapeshifting men ahead of Louis is tense with the provocation that came from their Lord finalising a decision most unpredicted. Torement stood silent and protective at Louis’ back while the rumbling crowd of their pack was pacing or succumbing to baser growls. Grym sat idle at the front of the commotion without verbal input while his brother, Richard, found the means to pull on his hair until it stung. X sat on the edge of the platform where Louis stood, his knees parted in a crouch so he could wordlessly offer Louis his support.

“You disappear for a fortnight and return with this heinous choice.” Angus says boldly to their Lord, stepping around Grym and braving X to depict his discontent. The emotion shone in the dull hue of his eyes.

Another, Benedict, chose that moment to reiterate his thoughts out loud. Anger was to him as alcohol was to an addict. “We stood behind you, my Lord, in your hatred for unnecessary violence.”

“I am not invoking pointless ferocity now, Benedict.” Louis fires back, feigning a tone of complete calm. “Visiting the other pack will make it clear that we are not to be threatened. Taking them under blood-oath will have them bound to us irrevocably.”

“What if they resist?”

“They will resist at first but a show of our strength will imminently silence that.” Torement replies from the wall at Louis’ back. “We will take the strongest amongst us.”

“No.” Louis shakes his head in negation. “We will not approach them with aggression. The bargaining of a sacred treaty is all they have earned.”

“My Lou.” Richard comes closer to their leader and fondest brother, tilting his head backwards to meet Louis’ eye in earnest. “Please do not say this is your final decision.”

Louis took a breath to brace himself before allowing his volume to raise, his muscles to release from their stiff state. Hearing his Were plead through the croak of his voice was enough to send Louis over the edge. “Have I not given to this pack a home and my protection? Until this time my decisions have been accepted, and endorsed, by this brotherhood of wolves. Do you now find reason to doubt my abilities?”

A rumble took over the room in a most vicious way; windows rattle and two lamps at the rear of the room shatter under the metamorphic presence of an invisible hammer. The shocking sound they made as glass splinters hit the ground makes Louis jump minutely, half his anger seeping out through every orifice of peace. He is not a creature of rage like vampires are of the night and Weres are of the moon within it, but rather one of blissful passion and devotion.

“That is not their intent, _nala._ ” Torement comes up beside Louis and touches his hip, notably letting the destination be that which is the exact same Harry touched earlier. Masquerading black eyes connect with Louis’ aggravated vision. “This pack is forever yours; an eternity of loyalty is yours.”

One of the Weres initiates a fierce howl to the skies that entreats the others to join, and within heartbeats Louis is surrounded by the comforting blare of his pack’s dedication in a single voice. He chews his lips worriedly with a rabbiting chest as his eyes scan the room and finds ease at seeing all except X tossing their heads back, lips round into perfect rings with the resounding echo of prideful roars following just after. One can never doubt their brethren when the most primal instinct is broad forth and permitted for manipulation.

Guilt is a miserable trait but Louis is better at hiding his truths behind endless curtains of facades until he cannot place them himself. There is not a personally sanctioned act he would not commit for this pack but never had he imagined that the terms of being their Lord might border on sacrificing the joy of his lover and him. Could a loophole be found in such an instance? There is only one who could answer that with a ruthless amount of honesty and Louis closes his eyes, shuddering at the prospect of meeting them again.

*    *    *    *    *

Louis feels like he had to sneak into the castle rather than allow for his customary greetings and niceties to pelt him. The construction loomed over him with its great shadow when he rode toward it and was engulfed by the darkness with a tidal wave of chills. For one born of the sun, he is most familiar with the night except for that moment when he left wolves of the midnight and happened by numerous vampires with their sinister gazes.

All that Louis surrounds himself with are predators while he is prey, but not ever before him has there been a soul to master their circumstances so fearlessly. Louis feels anything but on this night.

Sovereign is returned to his stable with a glacial pace for Louis is biding his time before he must go in search of one he hoped to avoid. The stallion kneels before his owner can brush his mane or tail, breathing like a hearty beast as Louis sidled up next to him.

“I never asked your opinion in all this.” He says to his steed. Sovereign’s eyes meet his the way they always do in close proximity, an unusual calm surfacing from receiving attention from an animal so nonviolent.

Embarking on the hunt for the guest’s rooms in the castle is no small task. Harry had them all underground in the otherwise unoccupied dungeons for the safety factor but Louis knew it really was so that they could be sealed in like a tomb to keep those most cruel from reaching the defenceless amongst them.

Louis hid in the shadows as he moved fluidly down a stone spiral staircase heading for the basement, feeling the frigidness seal in the depths of his bones. His teeth are close to chattering by the time his feet grace the base, and he is faced with a pair of Harry’s guards. He would remember them if they trained with him or were old enough in the King’s company to become acquainted, but these faces were foreign. Nonplussed, Louis quirks an eyebrow at them and watch them step aside for him without a word or quarrel.

 _You will always know when I am near._ The voice bounces off the walls of Louis’ trembling mind as he rounds a corner and sticks to the wall, taking shallow breaths as the task became more taxing. He who had spoken the words to him was very close and Louis had not taken note of the pressure at the base of his skull until now as it had only become pronounced enough to ache when the last door, vast and bulky wooden, stood before him. Harry would not want him down here now when Louis is most capable of protecting himself and would have waged a war before allowing him down here at any point before that, but the King is not faced with the dilemma Louis is.

Before he can knock the door opens for him and a far too smug expression comes out of the blanket of dark, pale skin like a floating disembodiment carrying said emotion closer to Louis. The aroma is easy to disregard when Louis is in the presence of the Count, because the latter is enough of a danger to risk focusing on anything else.

Stefan’s skin was so void of mortality that it sometimes shone as ghastly silver but there was nothing hideous about his features. Being bare-chested allowed for Louis to see the remarkably immovable steel plate covering the Count’s heart so nothing could ever pierce it. He had a pleasant curve for his jaw and the bones beneath his deep red eyes, hair so black that it seemed to be constructed from the unburned remains of coal.

The infamous Count stood before Louis with the boy’s blood on a pendant around his neck, and smiled almost warmly. It was one that fooled many an ignorant soul into his bedroom earlier and here Louis was volunteering his entry. The revelation of Stefan’s perfect teeth stained red and mangled with strings of flesh from a recent feeding brought Louis back to Earth.

“You look awful.” He says before he can think and instantly regrets it. Stefan is not like the other dangerous men in his life and should not be ridiculed.

The Count only laughs boisterously and leaves his grin in full view while stepping forward. When the stench of death harbours around a creature so religiously it would make anyone uneasy. “You act as though my _uncultured_ appearance has done anything to keep you from coming to me.”

Louis sighs audibly and briefly, he allows Stefan a glimpse of his smile. The hallway is dead silent around him yet the brimming shadows seem to house festivals of horrors that are unseen by him. He has a choice between braving whatever may lie in the Count’s quarters and remaining in the isolation of the hallway. “I need help.”

This surprises the other and Stefan raises his eyebrows in evident shock, but his smirk is no more displaced than before. “My help?”

“Yes.”

“How desperate might you be for my aid?” Stefan crosses his arms and leans his hip against the door, resuming an unordinary calm.

Louis tucks his hands into the opposite elbow crook to mirror the more intimidating of the two. The dagger in his waistband begins to feel like an immense weight. “Not desperate enough to take crap from you in return.”

A chuckle soon follows from Louis’ company before the doorway becomes more vacant so that he may pass through into the realm of gore that circulates like the Count’s blood. He cannot do so however without brushing Stefan with his arm and tries to appear unaffected by the bare contact when he enters the vampire’s room.

As is promised by the King to all visiting Elders and covens, their rooms are of wide enough space to allow for a four-poster bed with graceful draperies hanging from rigid pillars that guard the bed. The ceiling housed a chandelier hanging low enough to be grazed by the tallest Immortals, glistening crystals above the others’ heads like stars within confines. However, the expensive furnishings is far from the focal point in Stefan’ room.

Louis takes in the sight of naked women rolled into the silk bed sheets, their limbs at odds to one another because fitting three others on the bed is a burden. Rolling his eyes at the obscene picture, Louis looks away to the barren desk and kicks some inexcusably trashy clothing aside so he can stand safely against a wall, facing his onlooker.

“Sit.” Stefan gestures to the only chair in the room but Louis shakes his head so the Count takes the seat instead. “I hope these…circumstances don’t bother you.”

“Hardly.” Louis speaks truthfully and ignores the flicker of something unspeakable through Stefan’s gaze. He pushes off the wall but keeps it at his back when he approaches the other occupant.

The notorious Count tilts his head back so he may keep his concentration intently on Louis coming near, and absentmindedly licks his lips. “I can’t say that sits well with me.”

Louis frowns. “What does that mean?”

Stefan Visiles shrugs without a word from his lips, and switches subjects before Louis can press the topic. He sits back in his chair and steeples his fingers under his chin, an inhuman grace to all his movements that could hypnotise any Immortal. “Your dilemma?”

“Oh.” Louis clears his throat and lightly scratches his neck where an itch ensues unbidden by thought. He narrates the trouble of his current struggle in a brief and crisp manner while the Count shows no visible reaction to anything he says until he’s done. “So?”

Amusement glimmers in the red of Stefan’s eyes and curls his lip into a silent chuckle. He cracks the knots in his neck and knuckles, filling out the chair’s volume expertly. “This kind of advice will require effort on my part.”

“Is that such an encumbrance?”

“It won’t be because it is you that is asking me.” The Count stands in a sinfully fluid act and threatens Louis’ personal boundaries by putting their bodies in close enough proximity for the scent of blood to linger between them. Louis witnesses his amusement creeping into his features because Stefan _adores_ when he is challenged. “I am here for the King’s ceremony but only have seven more nights allocated to my stay. Before I leave I will have your answer.”

“Really?” Louis sounds disbelieving and it is easy to comprehend. None would expect assistance from the Immortal most revered for his brutality without penance. “You want something from me, don’t you?”

“I will admit I was…eager to see you again for the sake of my body’s gratification but upon meeting you now I believe there is a much grander desire you can fulfil for me.” Stefan runs his tongue over the glistening caps of his teeth and swallows the taste he scrapes off them.

He acts with lightning speed that Louis is defenceless against and clasps the latter by his chin, applying coordinated pressure so Louis is immobilised. The corner of his mouth is arched in a snarl, his crimson teeth reflecting the crystalline light from above and his eyes are blown wide so red dominated white. Stefan holds Louis like that with the boy on his tiptoes until there’s a shocking sting across his dangerously lower abdomen, the unexpected dagger’s blade slicing through flesh above his manhood.

“Just so we’re clear.” Louis smiled as well, sinister and uncaring. He lets the dagger’s tip track a path up Stefan’s front to his throat and fails to move from the pursuer’s grip. Blood seeps through his fingers and loosens his hold on the blade’s hilt but Louis watches Stefan’s aroused attention following his actions. “You’re not acquiring anything from me that I do not consent to.”

“Never fear.” Stefan withdraws and lets his healing skin knit back together while blood rolls down his hips and thighs without attention from him. “You are far more worthy of being a companion of mine for a single night.”

Louis tucks his weapon away while it still drips with his company’s most precious bodily fluid. “Not _any_ amount of nights, Vasiles.”

“Hush, _seles’meus._ ” Stefan turns away and swipes a coat off the chest by the door, shrugging his shoulders so it may fit onto his physique.

“That is an odd term of address for me.”

Louis watches the Immortal form a one-man storm as Stefan pulls his boots on and leaves the drying blood to form crusty islands across his chest. He goes around the bed to tug once and allow the three naked females to tumble out from between them, making Louis wince when the audible crack of one of their skulls against the stone floor reaches his ear. These women are strangers to him but Louis pities them and their befuddled state.

“Go easy on them.” Louis refrains from saying the Count’s actual name in front of these women, but appreciates when the Immortal backs off without a care for their well-being. It’s the most one could hope for.

One of them who is more girl than young lady with her slender hips and still-developing breasts proves herself to be most silly from the lot. The others gathered their belongings and rushed out with ghastly scars on their arms or legs without a word, but this one tempted Louis to concern. She obviously learned nothing from her time with Stefan in his bed and while Louis could hear none of what she seemed to be whispering to the Count, he could very clearly see the latter’s annoyance.

Louis clears his throat and holds back an unimpressed scoff when she glances over at him from Stefan’s ear, displaying her disposition. She obviously thought him to be a more permanent figure of Stefan’s affections and instead of fighting it, Louis allowed himself to be thoroughly amused by such an ideal. Young Immortals were often no less primitive.

He does see it as harsh when Stefan grabs her arm in a hold much too abrupt for such a delicate creature, the momentum created by his motion almost threatening to snap her weak form. Louis rushes over to them in time to step between Stefan’s raised palm and her freshly quivering body.

“I think we’re done here.” Louis keeps his eyes focused intently on Stefan’s scorching gaze, and releases the man’s grip on the youth so she can scurry away. “Leave, girl. You should know better.”

If Louis has ever seen uncensored rage it was in that moment. Not Harry or any of his Weres have ever displayed such hopelessly raw emotions in the hues of their gaze without caring to hide it in some way. Whatever gave ground to this feeling now was much too severe to be hidden. The air chilled with Stefan’s metaphysical power resurfacing and forming an invisible hand around Louis’ throat, but going no further.

Stefan growls frustratedly and pulls on his own hair with such might that when his hand that was once poised to slap an annoying female comes into view, some stray ashen locks remain entangled between his fingers.

“What’s going on?” Louis presses, searching desperately for an answer as to why the most controlled Immortal to take the darkness into his soul is so lost. “What did she say to you?”

Stefan shakes his head and his brow scrunches like he’s thinking out loud, his lips mimicking words as though he’s speaking to the air about him. Suddenly, he’s forgotten the internal turmoil entirely and deep red eyes brush over Louis as if the past few seconds never happened. “You have a qualm with me calling you s _eles’meus_?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to let lose with your comments. That platform is for you guys to go crazy telling me what you think. Also, the next chapter will be posted at 5K reads.


	5. V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I caved.

“You will be leaving later tonight, am I correct?” Harry graced a dozen more parchment papers with his signature on varieties of unsuccessful treaties or truces. He keeps his gaze locked with the elegant scripts before him but his more than godlessly delicious mate in his study as well has raked his full focus.

Louis lounged in glorious similarity to a feline across Harry’s fondest couch. He stretched out along the length of the leather cushions from his shoulders to his toes, flexing what has gotten too relaxed and heard his knuckles cracking in tandem with his movements. Lying there in the sinful nude with only a sheet to conceal his modesty, Louis knew exactly the crazed arousal his condition presented to the King.

“Hmm.” The fairest warrior Harry’s ever had the pleasure of being in the company of replies with a careless hum, and rolls over onto his front so he can prop himself up. “Are you going to miss me at all?”

Torture is the specialty of the Immortal King but if there has ever been one to get the upper hand on the ruler himself it was Louis. Harry raised his head and the corner of his mouth drew back in a smirk, a single dimple joining the admiration of Louis’ bare features. The King pushed his chair back with an abrupt screech so he may get to his feet.

“If the moon has been sprouting false truths about controlling our tides and the rain is nothing but an illusion, then I will not crave you in absence.” Harry sauntered across the study to kneel by Louis’ head, visions from two worlds connecting instead of colliding. “I loathe the fact that you must leave me.”

Louis reached out to cradle the back of Harry’s skull, threading his bare fingers through the man’s restrained curls so he may tug them free and into a flowing wave that tipped his shoulders. It ached in regions so untouched by physical contact to know he must part from his mate, the soul he is bound to forever. Being away from Vlad was torment and imagining the same scenario with his beloved has Louis in spades of fear.

It should be a crime for one being to rely so wholly on another when the individuals are independent in their own right. However, Louis and his Harry stand as testament that no matter how powerful a mated pair is the oldest magic that gifted their lands with the bonding tradition can never be overthrown.

“I will not be gone for long.” Louis whispers, bringing Harry’s face closer to his so their lips brush and breaths mingle. He shudders under the calloused palm gliding over his spine to where the sheet lay.

“Doesn’t matter.” When the King speaks it is directly into Louis’ ear and in such a low volume that goosebumps break out wherever they may, a raspy edge to a usually husky tone adding up to the ultimate rival to Louis’ self-control. “Be it a day or a year, the agony is the same.”

As any noble mate would, Louis wishes more than anything to offer his lover solace and reprieve from such hurt. With an apologetic whimper of his own, Louis surges forward so their lips can unite in haste. He frames his King’s face in both his hands and breathes in deeply through his nose so there is no means of further division. Harry captures Louis’ nape in his grasp and forces him closer to the ground, delving his tongue into the bliss of his mate’s confines.

Louis submits almost with as much vigour as he usually resists domination with, and moans guiltlessly from the back of his throat. A far more skilled set of lips pry Louis’ apart so that complete control of the boy’s mouth is imminent. Harry pours all his lust, fury and yearning into one kiss that leaves Louis feeling electrified all over.

His teeth latch onto Louis’ lower lip and releases the swollen tissue only when the painstakingly familiar taste of blood runs through their mouths. Teeth clash and tongues rule a dance of failing escape but Louis knows where this leads and it has him hardening between his thighs to see a bulge in Harry’s crotch as well. Fluidly, he scrambles onto the King’s lap in abandonment of his chastity and digs the heel of his palm into the clothed erection of his lover, drawing out a low groan from the other.

“Look at me.” Harry curls his fist around Louis’ throat and pins the boy’s gaze with a blinding arousal that lingers in his. The nocturnal predator his genetics disallow him to stray from has re-emerged and the golden slits that his eyes have become speak clearly of his power. Louis mewls and pauses in his urgent ministrations to get Harry’s pants off. “You belong to me, my beauty. No other. I don’t care what the stars write or about whoever wants to claim your affections because you know I am yours. I will burn this kingdom and everyone in it before I allow that to change.”

“My King.” Louis frees his neck and sets his forehead against Harry’s, smiling in self-satisfaction when he grips the length threatening to tear the seams of Harry’s pants. “You have nothing to fear.”

“I have much to fret over.” Harry secures Louis’ hips in his hold before tossing the boy to the side so he lands on his front. No leeway is granted for Louis is flattened by a firm weight on his back moments later, his heart racing with the leaden want coursing through him.

They have already made love tonight but this was not another session for gentility. Louis soared with the idea of his mate taking him for possession, bit his lip at the sound of pants unzipping. He screamed at the rough penetration of his body, the only lubricant coming from Harry’s frenzied tongue on him beforehand. It was pain and pleasure melting into something glorious.

“You will scream my name when you come.” Harry leaned over and commanded, sinking his teeth into Louis’ shoulder for a steady stream of maroon that he intermittently stroked with his tongue. He thrusted once to be fully seated and remained still, rounding his hips to coax further noises from his lover. “You will let them know I am the one to have you.”

Louis raked his nails over the carpet and yelped at the smack to his cheek, quivering at the aftershock of having his body impaled so pleasurably. Harry keeps a steely grip on his hips so Louis cannot escape him, can do nothing except lie there and take what is given to him. Having the love of his life sheathed so intimately within him is breath-taking and will never fail to rob Louis of his advanced though processes. He was no better than a puddle of sensations that arches and keens at the caresses of his beloved.

When Harry starts to move it is the stirring of a tempest in Louis’ body that tears him apart from the deepest depths of himself. Their pace is mindless and void of grace due to their urgency to be buried so irrevocably in this passion that neither minds the scratches or audibility of their bodies aligning. Louis’ breaths are ragged like his heartbeat and he clenches around Harry to drain his lover of everything offered to him. Sanity comes with Harry crushing his form so they fit together and nobody could tear them apart.

*    *    *    *    *

Louis is walking back to his neglected bedroom to gather the last of his belongings when he discovers Stefan Vasiles himself awaiting him. He would be a fool to feel completely secure in the Count’s presence even if they are on temporary neutral grounds, so Louis slips his hand into the waistband of his pants where his dagger rested. The other Immortal looks up from the marble floor to shove off the door, and his expression is as unlike his usual smugness as can be.

“ _Seles’meus,_ we have a problem.” Stefan says without emotion in his words or posture. He stood as straight as a pin and invoked the full repercussions of his lean height to loom over Louis. Brilliant red eyes made contact with Louis’ hidden weapon and then did the Count reveal a notorious grin. “The problem does not originate with me.”

Nonetheless, Louis remains armed. He brushes the strays of his fringe aside so he may see with total clarity that something akin to doubt drifted through Stefan’s usually arrogant expression. “What’s wrong?”

The Count smirks to instantly mask his pseudo-concern and gestures outwardly with his arm for Louis to walk ahead of him. “Much awaits you at your pack house.”

“How do you know what’s wrong in my pack, Count?”

Louis is already jogging down the hallway and brushing past faceless Immortals that walked in the opposing directions. He gets to aggravated with their agonising pace that he often hears Stefan chuckle behind him at the disgruntled reactions to his rudeness. They are to themselves by the time they arrive in the stables and Louis is swivelling the great weight that is his cloak over his shoulders without bothering to saddle Sovereign’s back.

“As per the answer to your earlier question, I am familiar with the current _misfortune_ of your Were pride because an old acquaintance of mine is among them.” Stefan stands obstructively at the stable door when Louis mounts his eager stallion and hooves click against the cold stone in their trip to their exit. Rubies peer up at Louis in mirth and criticism. “I would ask that you not let it be known how…fond we are of each other.”

“Fond.” Louis states the word in bleak absence of any emotion besides stunning surprise. “We are not any fonder of one another than any Immortal is fond of having their throat ripped out with a decaying blade.”

The Count laughs expressively enough for crow’s feet to form at his eyes and his shoulders to vibrate from the onslaught of humour. He steps aside from the stable entrance. “Don’t tempt me, s _eles’meus._ I refuse to be at the mercy of adoring you.”

*    *    *    *    *

Louis allows the night to encompass him in the form of towering oaks and alternate lumbering timber that house shadows graver than merely darkness. They seemed to draw in all possible sources of light and suffocate it. The ground crunched beneath Sovereign’s mighty form as the steed rode through the open field and plunged himself into the trees. Silence surrounded Louis like a malevolent blanket and that unsettled him the most because whenever he arrived there were always accompanying howls to greet him.

The aforementioned silence unnerves Louis but he smothers the distracting feature until he’s coming to a halt outside the pack house and alarm bells ring all over. His instincts bring his attention to the foreign modes of transport waiting outside for whosoever had invaded his territory. Something like frustration became rekindled in his chest and Louis hopped down to rush up the staircase.

Someone opened the door before he got there and standing in his way was Torement. The Alpha looked unhinged with his blackened gaze and hard-set features. “ _Nala._ ”

Louis glances at the restless mares tied to the post before the staggering establishment as a silent inquisition. He’s trying to weave his way past the unsettled Alpha but two solid arms encircle his midsection to hold him back. “Let me go, Torement. Who’s here that you don’t want me to see?”

He is hauled off the ground upon his dire attempt at escaping and Louis holds in a shriek, it dawning on him that their visitors must pose a serious threat. There is no Immortal in any kingdom that is not aware of how Louis despised being manhandled. Tore’s arms trap him there in the foyer, away from the warmth of his pack in the other room and the foul intrusion of unknown individuals.

“Forgive me, _nala_.” The Alpha male tightens his hold and sanctions the eruption of uneasy growls against Louis’ back. Torement kicks the door shut so he can crowd Louis up against it, his rumbling chest straining to soothe the resistance in the other’s attitude.

Louis grits his teeth and fights his baser urges to keep from forcing his weight on Torement, and pull a physical battle from this. He pants against the wood panels smothering his senses. “Who is it?”

Torement’s palms glide lower to Louis’ hips and wind restrictively around him. The contact of bare skin caused by his upper limbs hoisting Louis’ shirt so their bodies are further synchronised helps to unburden him somewhat. Close proximity with any member of the pack was an exceptional cure for unrest.

“Easy, my Lou. Easy.” Tore starts gracelessly petting Louis’ sides and nibbling on the boy’s throat closest to the pulse.

Louis takes several deep, shaky breaths and places his hands over Torement’s to ground himself. Each time this therapeutic closeness seemed to be taming the ultimate beast: the one within Louis. Imagine a monster so horrific and intimate with the happenings of bloodshed that it could reign supreme over all other beasts. The thought would make any Elder shudder and Louis bows his head, a low whine elicited from him when Tore sinks his teeth into his nape. None but a whimper is withdrawn.

“I’m fine, Tore. I promise.” Louis heaves in abundant breaths, deep and excellent in shaping the bloating of his chest. He curls his fingers into the worn belt loops of the Alpha, grounding himself.

To monitor and restrict the delicate swaying of Louis’ weight, Torement secures the other in the midst of his arms. He battles with those baser instincts that demand he find a spot in Louis’ crevices to nuzzle; to fall asleep in the plane of their many a problem with his would-be mate closest. “It’s them, _nala._ Those who to threaten to claim our pack.”

*    *    *    *

Howls fill the room from corner to orifice, possessing the bulk of the room that’s brimming with Weres from two packs. From the four edges of the meeting room Louis’ wolves break into their spirited greeting of relieved rumbles and agitated growls. Their might was displayed in their acceptance of their Lord, showing themselves as superior to their visitors. Louis had broken free of Torement’s hold in three quick movements, leaving the Alpha with a sprained wrist to contend with. He walked into the room containing friend and foe as an unstoppable force, his jaw set as his expression was grim and deathly. His eyes shimmered with murderous intent as he took the path made for him between the Were’s, not forgetting the brushes of his skin from those most familiar with him.

There was no need to mention earlier who the imposing guests were, for Louis spots them almost immediately. Standing at the base of the pack’s platform, two new personalities await him. Their frustrating audacity makes Louis’ blood boil. Louis breathes in the scent of his horde and feels his resolve being revitalised, a sinister grin overcoming his features as he comes to a stop.

The female, who ought to be the mate to the Alpha beside her, was somewhat prepared for Louis’ storm of fury. She stepped back when he was before her, and made a respectful bow of her head as is customary, which Louis did not return. Her features were undeniably attractive; high cheekbones, round amber eyes, perfect almond fingernails and deep red hair all tucked into the tailored fit of her black gown. Louis felt himself sneer at the fact that she dressed formally to insult him in person.

“Lord Louis. I am Lady Elizabeth.” She stands in front of him as the background howls settle and the air grows thick with tension. “You honour us by being here.”

He grits his teeth in clear view of her. “You bring nothing but disdain to my pack. I am not patient enough to give you a second chance. Leave my territory.”

If she felt any fright from his threat, none of that emotion showed. “We are within our rights to seek a home within the walls of a pack such as yours.”

“You want sanctuary with us, Lady Elizabeth?”

Something in her eyes flickered. “Yes.”

“You will not lead my wolves.” Louis pronounces each word so the air turns frosty with each syllable, and any disgust left unnoticed would certainly be accounted for with his scowl.

For the first time, the Alpha at Elizabeth’s back makes a move. Louis cannot decipher what it is that he is witnessing when the broader, bulky Were emits a grunt and shifts uneasily. His buzz-cut is underwhelming but the taut nature of his clothing that has to put up with the raw majesty of his ribbed physique. Next to her, the man was massive.

Elizabeth drew Louis’ attention back to her. A smile graced her features at the same time that Louis made sure all the irritation he could muster was easy to see. “My Lord, you are unmated.”

“And yet I amassed a pack of six hundred and three Weres.” Louis fired back, soldiering through his own arrogance when his pack erupts into yet another supportive uproar. Tore was crowding Louis’ back suddenly, clasping his hips and keeping his own gaze hooded. “This pack is ours, Lady Elizabeth, mated or not as we may be.”

“You’re not.” She grew nastier with impatience and the political dance both mortified and thrilled Louis. “There may be no Council to oversee it but the Old Laws must be adhered to.”

Louis sighed and accepted the brief nudge of Tore’s knuckle digging into his lower back. Lips met his ear. “Do not fold, _nala._ ”

Again, Louis watched Elizabeth’s Alpha grow uneasy, settling when she reaches back to grab him in a hold that’s less than tender. Louis finds this interesting and to be used later. He turns to the commotion of his wolves and just notices the division of the visiting pack and his own; Louis’ Weres did not allow the newcomers near the place where their leaders met. “Settle down, loves.”

Something sparks in the expressions of the others. Louis frowns at their abrupt reactions of turning to his wolves to see how they respond to being addressed as they had been. They behaved as if endearments were a rarity and something worthy of fear rather than familiarity. It occurs to him that perhaps Elizabeth could be nothing more than a Lady with a harsh rule imposed on the beasts when they each deserved the liberty Louis gave his Weres. Tore noticed the entire consequence and thusly encircled Louis’ waist with his arm, preventing him from acting on any impulse.

Turning back to Elizabeth and her unimpressive nonchalance to Louis’ infuriation, the latter finds it in him to be calm. “This land has been home to my wolves for over a century and I will not resign my loyalty to them or the territory for you, Lady Elizabeth, who is but an amateur. If it is the Old Law you wish to enforce then so be it.”

Torement’s slender fingers begin to sweep soothingly over Louis’ waist, in direct sight of Elizabeth who would stew in the comfort presented between the Alpha and Lord despite being unmated. He lowered his head to Louis’ shoulder and laid his lips on the boy’s neck, earning what he deserved when Louis merely tilted his head at an angle. Elizabeth raised her head without allowing herself to fall to the depths in disregard; she set her jaws and her nostrils flared.

Louis began with the penalties. “You entered our territory without granting us prior knowledge. This allows us to claim one of your Weres. You and yours invaded this pack’s most sacred place, so another of yours becomes mine. You presume to know the happenings of this pack when you are all but ignorant.”

His last words ring confusion in every soul in the space save for himself, but Louis does not let go of his steam. He licks his lips and quirks an eyebrow tauntingly at the silent Elizabeth until she intends to speak. “Do you then, my Lord, refute my claim by saying that you and the Alpha of this pack are mated?”

The room is as silent as can be, but Louis won’t allow for doubt to needle its way into his mind. “Alpha Torement and I had much to deal with before the issue of our mating became a priority. We have only recently begun courting.”

Against his back and buried in the curve of his throat, Louis feels Torement go as tense as timber. He hardly has time to register the lack of reservations before _his Alpha_ is gracelessly palming his hips and burrowing more intimately into Louis’ touch. Torement is behaving as a courting male would and Louis revels in the effort he’s making. His sigh is of ease and gratitude, his arm extending backwards to hook around Torement’s neck.

Publicly displayed intimacy from the Alpha and his mate has always spurred the energy of their pack, creating an irrevocably thunderous cloud of growls, hoots and shouts. Louis closes his eyes at the sound engulfing him and sealing their victory; his lips quiver on his exhale. He blocks his worries by tugging Torement closer and hiding in the Alpha’s embrace.

*    *    *   *    *

Somewhere beyond their grasp an owl hooted amongst the wild and kindred winds that whirled voraciously around the pack house. The Alpha and his mate of the largest _Fera_ in existence were left alone upon Louis’ request to discuss what needed tending to; the matter of their impending Bond was something to be revered and regarded with the utmost importance. An Alpha waits his entire lifetime to bind his soul to an eternal lover.

Torement rocked the wooden floorboards with his weight as he paced by the window overlooking the frosty night. He was cracking either his knuckles or letting his chest manifest in uncomfortable grumbling that was an octave below rattling everything glass in the close vicinity. Louis was up against the wall, chewing his thumbnail as anxiety got the better of him. He hoisted himself up onto the window pane and crossed his legs shakily, awaiting the storm that resides in Torement’s mood.

It grew to be too intense when all the restless Alpha cared for was continuing his rigid contemplation. He shoved himself up against the wall at his back and stared heatedly at Louis across the room, his arms knotted so stiffly at his chest that every corded muscle Torement has amassed over his centuries of living grew prominent. A Were of his size should not be agile or as fluid in his behaviour as he is.

“I will not insult you by asking if what you said earlier is fully understood by you.” The Alpha’s voice is masked like his true feelings at this time. His chest rises and falls in laboured motions, as if breathing were not his most vital task. “You confessed to a courtship where there is none.”

Louis nods, slow and deliberate. “I won’t take it back.”

Torement’s jaw ticks. “Cannot or will not, _nala_?”

“Won’t.”

“Then I could not possibly feign an objection.” The immensely impressed Were ventures across the few feet of distance between them while he speaks to welcome the shift in his expression. He reaches Louis after three large strides and brings the latter’s gaze up to meet his with a tip of Louis’ chin. “You honour me by becoming mine, _nala._ It is a debt I could never repay in all my lifetimes.”

Louis shudders at the sensation of warm, chapped lips meeting his forehead. He has no knowledge of how deep his nails are digging into Torement’s wrists or how his palm laid over the source of the Were’s earnest growls. “Having you for my mate will be a privilege that only I can enjoy. This Bond will be sincere and honourable, Tore. We’ll belong to it as much as we belong to one another.”

*    *    *    *    *

Louis was in the grandest hurry of his life to reach the castle once more before sunrise. He departed from the pack house after trusting Tore to detain their unwelcome guests until his return, but a barrier in the form of an Alpha stood in Louis’ way. It was Elizabeth’s Alpha and he was uncomfortably idle beside Sovereign, his arms tight at his sides and his breaths so shallow one could hardly attest to them. The moon cast an ugly glow on his olive skin and planted lifeless glimmers in his dark eyes that grew brighter as Louis neared him.

None but they were outside and therefore Louis felt hostile at this odd meeting. He would not arm himself yet because a chill in the air about the foreign presence was much akin to the shrieks of helplessness. Louis’ connection with beasts of all bloodlines enabled him to approach this Alpha with more than no preparation. Their eyes met and Louis sucked in a sharp inhale, sacrificing the penalty of being in such darkness with this creature when all he can read from those monotonous orbs is _pain._

It’s like a spear to his core just as his mother felt ages ago. She bestowed on him her ability to empathise with these rare beauties but not without the ache of experiencing their emotional turmoil, of narrating their deepest woes with one look. All he needed was to be allowed into their hearts.

“You made her bring your pack here.” Louis announced, his voice as hushed as the distant tremors of giants walking to the coming horizon. He bit his lip when another prod at his chest left him breathless. “You knew this would happen but you didn’t care because what she thinks isn’t your real purpose.”

The Alpha is ashamed; he glances at his feet hidden by some decaying leaves but admittedly nodded his head. He may have marred his face from being in Louis’ vision but the damage is done. All it took was one look and the finest of threads would exist between them forever if both consented.

Louis loathed the feelings bursting through him from watching this beast come to heel. His own memories were clouded by the Alpha’s, a wretched sound of sorrow tumbling from his lips when images of whippings, humiliation and ancient torture that he still carried the scars from flashed through his mind. The pain became his own and Louis had no steadiness in his limbs or head. Meeting Torement was like this; an instant mark woven in their ribcages from the shared memories. This Alpha was no less ruined for anyone who would not care for him.

Zara, his mother, had felt it like drowning centuries prior when she met her first beast and had no idea what was happening to her. The sensations could never be halted even if she willed it with all her might. The Gods have given her and her son the affinity towards these Immortals who sought their aid, and it would be unspeakable to deny the gift. Louis likened his earliest experiences to the throes of lightning and the lacking mercy that came with being struck repeatedly. Such agony should never exist in singular souls.

“What do you want me to do?” His voice shakes when he speaks and a tear has stained his face. Louis loses the battle with a hot sob when an arm is extended out towards him. He shakes his head. “D-Don’t, love. I can’t.”

Touching the one he has already allowed to place a mark on him will only induce further severing of any hope for their independence. If this Alpha is forward enough to grab him, the former will fight until he’s bled out when it comes time for them to leave.

Those burdened eyes pin Louis’ again and he has to look to the side where the trees are an unsatisfactory reprieve from the desperation in them. “Is this your rejection of me?”

Louis curses out loud and still there is no release. In those moments he is as corrupt by a malignant history as the Alpha before him. Whippings were in grey rooms and the tool was leather, slicing through skin repeatedly until muscle was ripped and bleeding onto the tile. A woman in a red dress would have him strapped to a bed with no cushioning so she could experience no resistance during her evil domination of his scarred body.

Each recollection would gnaw at Louis’ skull from within to reach the night air eventually and he didn’t realise he was so fervently shaking his head until a scream spilled from his hoarse lungs. His exclamation was a shrieking symbol of longing, and Louis would have collapsed had someone’s arms not wound securely around him. The scent is unfamiliar and invades Louis’ senses within moments of contact.

The saviour hauls Louis off the ground even with the boy’s drastic but futile resistance. An Alpha’s timbre reaches Louis’ flushed ear. “Let me hold you.”

Louis heaves the most revitalising breaths of his life into incapable lungs until they swell and quiver like everything included in his innards. He grips the limbs banded around his midsection with all the strength his stricken state can muster, making the skin beneath his fingernails bleed. While the wilderness tames itself at a gruelling pace, Louis feels himself being clutched to a chest too unfamiliar. He grows flustered and bothered enough to squirm out of the restriction.

“What is your name?” Louis pushes himself as far away from the Were as he can, fisting Sovereign’s reins in his unrelenting grasp. His eyes were wild, darting around them in uncertainty.

The Alpha comes to him whether Louis backs away or not. He drops to his knees in front of the one he seeks to be his protector and Lord, prostrating to the Immortal he finds most divine. “I was born with the name Cassius but if it dissatisfies you I’ll forsake it.”

Shaking his head, Louis thrusts the prospect far off. He rights himself before anything detrimental can overrule his faculties by clearing his throat and blinking away what images will engrain its self into the backs of his eyelids. “You will change nothing for me, Cassius.”

With the slightest of shuffling, Cassius brings himself nearer to Louis’ body heat and embraces the sweet embodiment. There were no voiced arguments coming from the other so he pressed his face into Louis’ belly, breathing in deep with parted lips and bared canines. Inhaling the scent of a protector was like an astonishingly fuzzy hand caressing your deepest anguish; it was the needle that sewed together what was shredded.

“Torement.” Louis hears himself whispering, his manner throttled and straining. He keeps his hands in the air, throwing his head back to take in the floating stars and their king when the Alpha gripping him makes a worried sound. “Torement!”

Louis has done all that is possible for him to never acquire aid from those around him. He is the epitome of distinguishable independence in any remarkable instance, except now for the first time when he calls for his Alpha with stinging eyes and tear-streaked skin. The squeak of the door peeling back on bloated wood rings out deafeningly over the night and an approaching storm far beyond their control.

He sees Torement in the doorway stepping out of the dim glow of their pack house, his curiosity melting into stunning anger when he observes Louis’ dilemma. Torement’s knuckles curl at his sides but he waits for Louis’ word, no matter the express hatred making his eyes shimmer.

“I-” Louis struggles to find his own words. “Help me, Torement. I can’t give him what he needs when…when I’m lost to myself.”

*     *    *    *    *

Stefan sat in his vast leather chair that’s been bought from the town, a glass of the castle’s most bitter amber alcohol in his left hand while his right twirled the pendant of Louis’ blood. He stared at it, transfixed no matter the mindless natter surrounding him. The female that occupied a temporary residence in his bed was rushing about trying to find her finery while muttering about him being a heartless fool.

The Queen always seemed to have too much to say when none of it meant something.

He heard none of what she spoke until she was on the unfit floor in her freshly torn dress, clasping the knee of his closest to the pendant. Her bejewelled eyes reflected some of the room’s minimal lighting but not with half the enthusiasm as someone else he knew. “What is that? You’ve been fixated on it for hours.”

The Count did not deter his gaze but his lip curled in distaste, jerking his leg away so she fell to the filthy ground. “If it has been hours then why are you still here?”

Whatever the Queen said to follow fell on deaf ears, for Stefan moved to the tray of more alcohol to pour a fresh glass. He heard the scurrying of vermin before spotting it in its attempt to squeeze through the furthest bottles. The white rate was half the size of Stefan’s fist when he held it captive and fell limp when he twisted its fragile neck.

“That scent is familiar.” She comes to recognise the aroma that always accompanied her unfaithful husband and her lips form a snarl. “Him. Are you one of his _many_ admirers too?”

Stefan shows no visible response but he toys with the dead creature cradled in his palm, rolling its lifeless skull around between his fingers.

“You let yourself down, Count Vasiles.” The Bride of the nation remarks with a less than kind lilt to her words. “If many knew of your….tastes, there would not be many at your door.”

“They’d still be at my bed, my Queen.” He approaches her with a tilt to his head and demented twinkle illuminating his gaze. The evident shiver she undergoes is fractionally arousing. “Just like you, just like all whores.”

“I am _not-_ ”

“The door, my Queen.” Stefan sweepingly gestures to the exit to his quarters whilst taking his spiteful companion’s hand in his, emptying the corpse of a rat into her grip with a smirk. “You may not be a whore but that’s only because none of us has offered you gold in return.”

*    *    *    *    *

Harry had a million different prospects and worries to worsen the hunch in his shoulders but his eyes were all for Louis in these moments. He pinched his bottom lip between his thumb and index, thoughts lost to his frustration. Already Louis has had to save the sleek oak desk from imminent destruction when Harry laid a path of destruction across his study. They stood now in the ruins of the Immortal King’s office where treaties and documents of the highest order were scattered, floating to the ground after a maddened ruler tore through them.

“You’ve made up your mind.” He says, voice void of emotion and his expression unreadable. Harry turned around and walked out of the private bubble he maintained with Louis.

“Harry, please.” Louis has been pleading for hours. The tears staining his visage hurt immensely for they were useless and did nothing to convince his lover of the truth.

The King dug his knuckles into the table and pressed his weight forward, his jaw set and the room turned silent enough for the dead’s whispers to be audible. He suddenly roared and swept everything off his desk, letting glass and crystal crash to the ground without a care. “I don’t care, Louis! There’s nothing I can say to stop this.”

Louis let the harshest statements get filed away with all the rest for later mourning. He swallowed thickly and hugged himself. “I know this is difficult for you but it is no less so for me.”

“Difficult.” Harry spits mockingly. He shoved the desk at his mercy so it slammed against the wall and a large crack split it in two. “It’s _agony,_ Louis. Knowing that some other _animal_ is going to touch you makes me sick. If I could, and I would if you weren’t the obstruction, I’d make sure he never saw another day.”

“Harry!” Louis’ pain turned to an exterior display of disapproval. “Torement has not-”

“Don’t speak his name to me.” The King grits. He lifts his gaze to hotly meet Louis’ eyes. There was nothing but vicious intent to behold. “You have been my beloved for most of my life.”

“Have been, Harry? Am I already the past to you then?”

“Oh Louis. You are everything to me; my entire world and more.” Harry says defeatedly, letting his head hang between his shoulders. “If this is what we must endure then so be it.”

Louis was surprised. “Really?”

“Yes.” His lover pushes off the window glass and walks over to him, stopping only when he’s near enough to lace their fingers together and tug Louis closer. There’s something to be said about the Herculean pleasure that comes from merely touching Louis’ skin with his own. Harry wraps his free arm around his lover’s shoulders and buries his face in the neck of his soul-mate. “My love for you is not to be thought of as waning. Any and all affection I possess for you will survive the worst trials this life can curse us with.”

Hands clutched the back of Harry’s shirt, fingers twisting into the silk fabric and the dampness of Louis’ dying tears turned the navy blue hue into something to match the threads painting any night sky. Grief is as formidable as any shade of disability and for Louis to allow his sorrow to be depicted in this way in front of the King is an honour, the showering of privilege. Harry embraced his lover and closest companion tightly, beckoning tribulations to come forth and attempt tearing them apart.

“When I told you years ago and every night after that about never granting anything the ability to sabotage my love for you, I was as serious as any Immortal could ever be.” Louis spoke softly and without need for a crescendo of volume. His confession was powerful regardless of how many could hear him. “I love you now and I’ll love you every day after tomorrow, Harry.”

*    *    *    *    *

“What are you looking at?” Louis did not mind his lacking modesty when he sat up nude, crossing his legs beneath him whilst leaning against one of the bed-poles.

Harry  was standing against the window, an admirer of the new night that has fallen over their lands. He cracked open the glass panes to let in a marvellous breeze that carried with it the scent of nature settling into a short hibernation. A storm was nearing in the form of distant thunder and flashes of dull lightning but they had a day before it would become a condition of theirs.

The King took a moment before returning to the bed. He remained on his feet for long enough to take Louis’ hands and kiss them, one finger at a time. “I’m continuing my search for something to rival your beauty.”

Louis tilted his head back  for Harry to lean down and unite their lips, smiling against the King’s kiss whilst freeing his hands at the crack of Harry’s knuckles so he can wind them around his lover’s neck. Every hint of an emanating grumble that could resonate from the gravely depths of Harry’s voice could be felt against Louis’ fingers. He licks into Harry’s mouth with an ardent moan and lets his legs fall open so Harry can fall into their cradle.

“Do you wish to tempt me again, my fair warrior?” The King rasps, barely containing a groan when Louis raises his hips and grinds shamelessly against him. “An hour ago you kicked me in order to get a break.”

“Maybe I’ve recovered.”

Harry frames both sides of Louis’ face beneath him, his fingers carding through the boy’s dishevelled hair. He brings aligns their bodies with their foreheads meeting and Louis grinning with a rare sense of abandonment. “You look precious like this, my fair warrior, as if you and I had no troubles.”

Something caused the corner of Louis’ smile to twitch but he quickly recovered. Having a mass of responsibilities has crafted Louis’ personality and skills like nothing else could. “I don’t regret our duties, Harry.”

A warm, calloused palm grabbed Louis’ hip with soothing repetitive strokes over the plump roundness. Louis’ figure is truly breath-taking with feminine curves that were pronounced enough to only his lover who saw what lay beneath his armour. He had the elegant silhouette all warriors who masked themselves by the tools of the night must.

“Nor do I, beloved.” Harry brought his hand around Louis’ throat, his fingers forming the necklace which his Bonded must always retire to. He pulled Louis to his lips this way. “I-”

A knock on their bedroom door silenced Harry’s impending response. He answered the interruption by lifting his head and snarling at the wooden barrier. The infuriated sound grew milder when Louis began pressing a trail of kisses across the King’s collarbone; his separated lips left glistening traces on the planes of muscle.

“Enter.” Harry settled in Louis’ arms with his head resting on his lover’s chest. He watched as the servant entered sans any tray or letter, but instead had a disturbingly tense way about his posture. “What’s bothering you this much?”

The unnamed attendant raised his head and caught the King’s eye. Louis also noticed a startling resemblance to one with a grave secret to reveal in this servant. He props himself up on his elbows, intrigued. “What’s going on, Jules?”

“My King. My Lord.” Jules nods to them each in turn before hesitating as if he’d lost his place in a rehearsed dictation. “The guards at the Queen’s room await you in your study. They found her not two minutes ago. The Queen was murdered, my King.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THOUGHTS MAYBE? O.o


	6. VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hardest chapter I ever had to write.

The Were Bonding ceremony is breath-taking and in its gradual pace of proceedings allows all those in attendance to wrap themselves up in the celebration of love. Any pack, and especially Louis’ _Fera,_ spent the weeks prior to their revered festival in evident anticipation. Considering the bitter-sweet reality that all Weres had affection only for their Lord or Lady, and would thus never Bond on their own, there happened to be enough enthusiasm to pass around.

However, Louis and Tore had stalled the passive attack on their horde so any rush into their Bonding had to be halted. There were duties and tasks to be brought to completion before they award their pack with the sight of their physical Bond being formed. Torement wanted to run inspections on every cottage occupied by their Weres and renovate what was necessary in the packhouse. A fence needed to be set up around their territory to demarcate where their land began and ceased, making it easier to identify trespassers. Louis had not requested it but Tore was nearly done with the construction of a home behind their packhouse that it meant to be theirs, a worthy gift from Alpha to mate.

For now, Louis was avoiding the Styles castle. The riveting politics over the Queen’s death has taken all the grief out of her passing and already Harry’s Council was seeking a means to soothe the nation. Thorough investigations revealed that Ana had been murdered, if one was comfortable with categorising the gruesome attack on her body as merely that. Her belly had been sliced from hip to hip, the gaping wound burned with ash so it will never heal, and her eyes hung like sadistic earrings from their sockets. A vampire could return stronger from this brutality such as this but the glistening silver running through her entrails prevented her from doing so. Someone had fed the Queen silver nitrate in a lethal dose, allowing it to destroy her from the inside.

The culprit was yet to be apprehended – Harry publicly swore a severe demise to the one who entered his home and disgraced his reputation – but Louis knew they were going nowhere. He feared for his own creatures at this point and has not seen sleep after the fact. Every night since these lands lost their Queen Ana Louis has been posted at the door or on a tree’s branch to w _atch_. He didn’t know what would do this at the time and let himself turn into a jittery mess until someone grabbed him from behind.

Stefan Vasiles had dragged him as far away from the protection of Louis’ Weres as he could go with Louis cutting up his arm, before tossing his victim to the ground with a pained hiss. He flicked his arm and crimson streaks painted Louis’ face but the latter did not seek to wipe it off yet. “What are you doing here, Stefan?”

The smirking Count fell to the ground, his back against a leaning oak, and laughed. He chuckled manically to himself for the time it took Louis to sidle up next to him, the astonishing sight of humoured tears on the vampire’s cheeks coming into view under the moon’s scrutiny. “You do not want to punish me for kidnapping you?”

“I know you well enough, Count. There is no other way that you’d ask for a meeting with me.” Louis wiped his face of any blood residue and crossed his legs. All around them night was closing in and while something in Louis kept the horrors at bay as it always did, the presence of the Count in his sinister glory drew them closer. “Talk to me, Count.”

Stefan still wore his ridiculous grin even as he spoke the words that momentarily tore Louis’ mind apart. “I know who killed the Queen.”

“How do you know this?”

“Most would ask the identity first.” Stefan bent his parted knees in the air and swung them from side-to-side. His jovial nature was rarer than the blue moon occurring on the same day as a solar eclipse and Louis was transfixed by him.

“That’s why it’s _most_ and not _all_.” Louis trails off towards the end of his remark, one leap below gawking at Stefan’s knee provocatively bumping his own. He was almost disparaged by this behaviour.

His companion pauses. “I know who killed the Queen because I was in the room.”

Louis stopped breathing and stared unblinkingly at the vampire next to him, quickly recovering from the shock when the wind whistles past his ear and sounds too much like the voice of disembodied monsters. “If you tell me, Count, you’ll be asking me to keep a grave secret. All in these lands are seeking the answer you have.”

“ _Seles’meus,_ I am a man in an Immortal’s suit. There has to be someone with whom I share this vile secret or risk it driving me as mad as my ancestors.”

“Tell me then.” Louis bowed his head, braced for the moment when he becomes the possessor of the truth that must remain hidden. He does not know why he’s willing to do this for Stefan or how the worst time in the castle’s age presently has to be one he’s involved in, but there is no means to stop it now. “Stefan, if someone asks me- If Harry asks me, I don’t think I’ll be able to lie to him.”

“It is true that the King will seek your advice because you are cosier around us beasts than he, but if he poses such a question then I would not ask you defend me.”

Louis looked at the Count sitting alongside him within range of a spring-water stream a few feet away, under the mercy of the moon and all the creatures that worship it. He notices how dilated Stefan’s eyes have become from what must be driving him wild within, his orbs becoming red at every angle. “I don’t want to be the one to give you up, Stefan.”

There is no disillusion about how Harry will react if he discovers that Stefan knows who sewed discord into his home, but Louis has a fair assumption on which this suspect might be. He shudders at the thought of Harry unleashing the power he’s kept at hand for centuries to bring the infamous Count to heel. Louis loves the King, hated Ana and is possibly Stefan’s only friend. How can he be expected to fare if it all came to such a gruelling head?

“You are as dear to me as any Immortal capable of being my friend. I’d much rather confess to you than any other.”

Had a time of commotion ever come to be at an age before the present Immortal King, it would pale in comparison to the fuss of this castle. Each soul had tending to do and business to ready before the ceremony still scheduled to take place at the first sign of dusk. Atop this preparation was the daytime investigation of Queen Ana’s demise that was traitorously dimming as hours passed. Louis despised the selfish woman but even he felt the habit of forgetting that she was _murdered_ was cold and insensitive.

He said nothing for hours while he sat beside Stefan in the woods days before and each time he recalls the memory, words from the Count’s lips float by him in a haze. _Remember, seles’meus, that I am taking your word of secrecy._ There was none but slight deliberation at that point when Louis braced himself for a horrid truth. Stefan let his head hang low between his shoulders, his eyelids sealed to restrain any excess emotion that may peek out from the crimson of his gaze. _Our Queen Ana died at my hand. It was I who disembowelled the woman who granted me grave humiliation._

*    *    *    *    *

Harry looked at Louis with a depth of feeling that left him breathless. His lover, daintier but no less lethal when armed, was a humbling sight when sprawled out on his bed in nothing but the coverage of his bare, flushed skin. Harry crawled over him after a quick departure, gripping Louis’ hips as he formed a path up the boy’s spine. He slipped his hands around and lower, clasping the still unsteady thighs that he is most familiar with.

“Wake up, my fair warrior.” Louis was dozing off and it could not be allowed. The King growled against his ear with a fierce command until Louis opened his mesmerising eyes and pouted.

Louis’ skin was sticky with sweat and both their releases from previous exhausting rounds but the hours prior are not to be put to rest yet. Harry yanked his hips into the air, forcing Louis’ back into a delicious arch. He tested the lubricated flesh between Louis’ thighs with a thorough inspection by his slender fingers, drawing choked whimpers from his elicit victim.

With a steady grumble from his core, Harry draped his legs over Louis’ to immobilise him and penetrated his beloved with a pleasured hiss. The sound was affectionate, estranged and heavily aroused all in one voice. Louis’ jaw fell agape at the intrusion and rolled back into it with the dregs of his strength, his fingers fisting the sheets as Harry buried himself to the painful hilt.

“Breathe.” Harry said to him in his ear, huskily bidding the most intimate senses in Louis’ soul to succumb. He covered Louis’ body with his own and started to move with the slowest thrusts, rocking their forms to his own rhythm. “Breathe so I can have you, my beauty.”

Louis reached behind him and grasped the back of Harry’s neck, his mouth frozen in a silent scream as he relished the movements of his lover inside him. His legs quivered and gave out after such exertion but Harry forced him back into vigilance and making the perfect sounds to fill their bedroom. Anyone within hearing range had the chance to heed Louis’ shameless screams when Harry had him on his back or lazily against the dresser, but these sounds were just for them.

Harry sank his teeth into Louis’ vein without pausing his hips, and drew on the sweet metallic taste while his boy tossed his head back at the mercy of overwhelming sensations running rampant through him. Weakness should arise from being fed from but Louis only ever felt more energised, possessed by a primal need to provide for his beloved in this way. He mewled in a pitch that is too high and let his legs fall open further so that Harry could piston his thrusts wildly against him.

They finished without stimulation outside their present union and Harry groaned at the feeling of emptying his release into his receptive mate. He withdraws from Louis’ jugular with a satisfied gasp and light smack to his lover’s behind. Louis kicks him for it but the act is futile after Harry flattens him forcefully against the mattress, and licks at the bleeding wound on his throat.

 _“Harry.”_ Louis shudders at the dampness being created messily on his neck. He cannot feel the wound closing under Harry’s ministrations and the cool wind whips through the pierced flesh, stinging it.

The King hummed, his fingers prodding at the bite mark fascinatedly. His tongue would sweep across any escaping rivulet while his fingers inspected the skin. “There cannot be a taste more divine than you.”

Louis lies haphazardly against the sheets, panting raggedly as Harry let the neat holes in his neck close. “There might be but you’re never going to find out.”

“Aye.” Harry pats the curve of Louis’ waist and pulls out of the boy’s body with elegant swiftness. “Get dressed, beloved. You have a ceremony to attend.”

*    *    *    *    *

The festivities of the traditional _Ala Fersi_ – exchanging of gifts by the couple to be Bonded within a fortnight – was to be observed when the moon was at its peak and after the pack had run through the woods to feed. Louis was to be morally separated from the pack as the intended mate is an outsider before the Bond, and the Alpha must prove himself a competent leader in his steadfast. Torement had compensated for this by kissing Louis’ cheek with as apologetic an expression as his smug appeal could muster, before switching forms and tearing through the woods.

Upon their return, Torement had brought the corpse of a decapitated bear for Louis to accept not as his personal reward but as a feast for the pack. Communal meals are a display of brotherhood and Tore made certain that Louis would witness his endorsement of the custom. Richard and Grym tore apart the logs of wood at their disposal to toss into the budding bonfire, making a brilliant scene as the orange flames licked the stars hanging above. Crackling filled the night along with the howls and triumphant growls of Louis’ pack as they rotated between their Alpha and his mate, cuddling up to a flattered Louis as he became further entrenched in Weres.

It was first Benedict who sidled up beside Louis and leaned in to warily nuzzle their Lord’s throat, and the welcoming of his affection inadvertently summoned the others. Acceptance within the horde is vital for the Alpha to know he is making a choice that does not compromise his followers’ happiness, and the way they crowded one another to reach Louis was no less of an indicator. The Weres adored Louis as much as he loved them and it was no burden for their celebratory party to evolve into a mass of limbs tangled out under the night sky.

“At least I know I won’t be rejected.” Louis teases, carding through Viktor’s silvery locks while X laid claim over his left hip. Every possible inch of his body was masked, gripped or enveloped.

Markus was the one to respond, and laying himself incidentally over a few of his brethren even as they protested. His unforgettably pale eyes met Louis’ in earnest. “This pack will no sooner destroy itself before rejecting you, my Lou.”

“Aye.” Sky whistled from where he served as Louis’ pillow, and his younger brother grinned charmingly at the focus of their attention. “Will you allow Torement a traditional Bonding ceremony?”

Louis was not struck by the inquisition for he has spent many an hour fiddling with the thought of a _traditional_ Bonding. The revered rite of _Barsei Azeem_ – named after the force meant to physically bind souls for all eternity. It was a mesmerising sight when the Bonding took place and the light blue hues became visible above their passionate forms, entwining in a knot before turning silver. Torement would want that for his Bonding ritual and Louis would be honoured to grant him that, but the public setting in which they must be intimate is no less unnerving. The pack must be present for the joining of their bodies and the treasure that is watching their Alpha take his mate so the formation of a Bond is beheld.

“We haven’t discussed it yet.” Louis met the brooding Alpha’s gaze where he is taming the edges of the fire to keep it from spreading. Torement smirked, brought his gently cupped palm to his face so his fingertips grazed his frenzied hairline before turning away. The oldest greeting amongst mates was one of utmost respect. “Even if we do Sky, Zak and Matthew won’t be allowed to attend.”

His mocking restriction sent the three youngsters into an uproar so they pounced on him, shouting arguments and outrage until Louis’ laughter dominated their commotion. Once they settled, Louis woke from the puppy pile of drowsy Weres and ignored their lazy complaints while he moved around the towering red-yellow crescent reaching the treetops to find his future Alpha sitting on a log, plucking berries off a branch with enough ferocity to have his fingers bleeding cherry sap and something less pleasing as a result of the thorny bushes.

“Hey.” Louis heaved his weight up onto the coarse timber and let his head rest on Torement’s shoulder, instinctively turning his face to hide in one of the regions that harboured the Alpha’s scent. “Why are you over here all by yourself?”

“My solitude is about to expire, _nala._ ” Torement’s smiling lips grazed Louis’ forehead.

Louis clenched his fist and delivered a solid blow to the Were’s ribs, hating that all he managed to earn was a chuckle from the Alpha. “You’re ridiculous.”

Torement managed to rescue one bloody red cherry from annihilation and held it out for Louis between his fingertips, feeling pride swell in his chest when his intended mate accepts the food offering. “I heard their enquiry about a traditional bonding ceremony. My Lou, I want to tell you that you are under no obligation or influence. You are to be my mate, the leader of our horde and my equal.”

“Tore.” Louis sat his chin upon the hunched Alpha’s shoulder and pressed his lips to the latter’s hollow cheek. “I do not feel it incumbent on me; it would be my pleasure to give you a ceremony that your ancestors last had the opportunity to conduct.”

“It would be the greatest gift.” Torement clasped Louis’ knee in his palm and lightly squeezed the joint as the wind whipped around them in a circular column before dispersing.

Under the praise of the never wilting moon Louis allowed the horde’s Alpha to have a kiss, the first of many from him. He was so muddled with guilt that up until their lips connected it was a fierce resistance that caused his anxiety, but Torement’s chapped lips meeting his were enough of an anchor to yank Louis out of the thunderous worries.

As his energy with Harry is the very epitome of criminal passion, Louis can taste the essence that will come off Torement and him. He feels the intoxicating hints of possession like mint on his tongue with carefully interspersed desire like the sweetest dessert. His soul’s connection to all beasts made any contact effortless once accepted but intimacy lit up parts of his senses that Louis found exhilarating. Harry was not a beast, not by blood or nature, and could therefore not elicit the reactions from Louis that Torement could.

Something about it was as raw as it was tantalising, and Louis was blinded by the urge to take as much of the taste as he could. He fisted Torement’s hair with a hold that was too sudden and whimpered as if he weren’t the one climbing onto his Alpha. Louis hated losing control almost as much as he hated having too much of it, but Tore’s inner wolf was beckoning him in caressing strokes that reached his core and Louis felt himself shiver. The beast in Tore called to what monster lay hibernating within him, and Louis dipped his tongue past Torement’s lips to steal more of what he could reach.

“ _Nala._ ” Torement whispered his mate’s name like a mantra, and lowered his grip to firmly cup the boy’s derriere. He allowed himself improper groping of Louis while he remained on his lap and growled steadily into Louis’ chest. “Kiss me like that again and our Bonding ceremony will happen _now._ ”

*    *    *    *    *

Vlad lay in his new bed, staring up at the glistening stars through the glass panel installed on the ceiling to allow simple viewing of the clouds above. Torement had constructed this house for them to all reside in like a family with sufficient bedrooms and a grand open-plan ground level to accommodate them all. It was attached to the back of the packhouse and stood as tall as three stories high, an arched rooftop to complete the medieval design.

“Do you like it here?” Louis sat across from his leopard and the minotaur on whom he laid. He was in awe of the home built for them by his Alpha, and still could not suppress the blush tinting his complexion.

“Love it.” Vladimir gathered up the sheets against his chest and rolls around on the mattress. “Tore is wonderful.”

Louis catches the shifter’s ankle before it can collide with any sensitive part of him. He sighs and sits back against the bed post, curling his legs beneath him. “Elijah?”

“Yes?” The silent creature responds with a grunt, rendered abruptly from his thoughts.

“You okay, love?” His protector frowns.

Elijah nods, returning to his former calm. “Tired.”

Louis leaves them to their own devices when Torement appears at the doorway, passively leaning against it to summon his future mate. His grumble is patient and questioning, while the crossing of his arm over his chest and bulging muscles indicate the endless domineering strength he could use to force his word.

“Goodnight, loves.” Louis wakes up after awarding them both kisses on their foreheads. He pads over to Torement in his most ratty sleepwear, shutting the door soundly behind him. “What’s going on?”

The Alpha takes Louis’ hand when it isn’t apparent that the latter will punish him for it. He brushes his thumb over Louis’ knuckles repeatedly until his words return to him. “Do you like the home I built for you, _nala_?”

With a sheepish grin, Louis remembers the exterior of the cottage with its vintage windows and wooden floorboards on the patio. He could not have imagined a finer gift for an Alpha to give their mate. “It’s beautiful, Torement. Every little aspect.”

Torement takes advantage of the dimly illuminated corridor to lean in and rest his forehead against Louis’, locking his fingers into the gaps between Louis’ as the bonded units remain between them. His lips met Louis’ cheek. “Even the line-in guests?”

“ _Especially_ the line-in guests.”

As promised to the Alpha, Louis acquiesced when he was asked to accompany Torement to the unveiled master bedroom. He had informed Harry that the tradition of mates honouring one another with gifts ought to be completed with a night spent together, and there was no budging what is customary. Louis was also eager to endure the Old Laws with Torement and his pack in the beginnings of their Bonding ceremony.

They had a bed made from dried pine needles and pillows stuffed with duck feathers, all crafted from scratch by Torement. Although the construction of the house was entirely a Herculean task and could be completed with the aid of the entire pack, the bedroom of the mating pair is sacred ground that must not be invaded by foreign scents. As the Alpha, Tore had the duty of building everything with his own effort.

“What made you decide to put glass ceilings over the beds?” Louis asked, softened by the silence of the house around him. Sudden creaks and groans were from the wooden innards coming to rest with people living amongst them.

Torement angled his head to rest against Louis’ shoulder, easing what reservations the other had by connecting their bodies as much as he can. “You often look up at the stars when you are to yourself, _nala._ ”

Louis rolled onto his side and with a little shuffling, he had Torement facing him with a curious glint in his dark gaze. “It’s creepy that you know that.”

“It is not.” The Alpha made for Louis’ waist, dragging him down and closer. Louis stacks their pillows to be shared, cupping Torement’s cheek while mulling over his next words. “It is merely noble that I care about my mate enough to watch him at all times.”

Louis laughs under his breath and receive his Alpha’s affection with ease when Torement seeks out his lips with continual light nudges. It’s no less nerve-wracking to kiss him now than it was before for the first time. Nonetheless, he parts his lips when they connect with Tore’s that are somewhat slathered in petroleum jelly. An unexpected giggle escapes Louis’ bearings when he gets carried away in nipping at the scarred tissue, and scrapes some of the moisturising gel off.

“What’s this then?” Louis swipes his thumb over Torement’s lips and exhibits the cosmetic. “You never use this.”

“Aye, but I haven’t been in the throes of kissing you before.” Torement encircles Louis’ narrow shoulders and draws him impossibly close to where an Alpha can protect his mate best. He hides Louis against him, and kisses down the side of his face to where the boy’s pulse throbbed. “I do not contend with these scars but I await the moment when I can make my own marks on you.”

*    *    *    *   *

Louis decided to move half his belongings into the new home after Vlad announced that it would be his and Elijah’s exclusive house. They would not return to the castle again now they’re amidst Immortals more like them and more familiar, but Louis had the most precious tie to Styles grounds still. He gave permission to Elijah and Vlad to move permanently but it was not just them pleading for sanctuary. Louis let the visiting Alpha’s memory fade into just a dull ache in his chest that will never diminish entirely until days later when he went with Elijah into the flower meadows and discovered a camp.

They had been alone so Louis might illicit the troubles that have been burdening his creature enough to add a further hunch in his posture and a sickening heaviness to his eyes. He sat in the tall grass while Elijah returned to his primitive nature where minotaurs dug the sand with their hooves and grunted at the harmless critters about. They were once ruthless and survived on the flesh of mortals like all the undead now, but Elijah had a kind-heartedness that was not attributed to his roots.

He was a mighty beast and could not behave around Louis the way Vlad did, although he tried. Eli would lay amongst the flowers and demand Louis pet him or file the ridges off his horns. He spoke little but fell asleep often on Louis’ lap, his audible snores frightening the rabbits that hopped by.

“Eli.” Louis watched his minotaur feed a squirrel with a deep frown of concentration. He reached across and touched the creature’s cheek, brushing the coarse surface of his skin.

The beast huffed and released his pet, settling nearer to where Louis wanted him. He leaned down the way he did when he wanted Louis to touch him, and groaned contentedly when his protector began petting his upper body. Falling to the dirt, Elijah nuzzled the side of Louis’ thigh. “What I do?”

“Nothing, love. Nothing.” Louis reassures him. He brushes the thick strands of inter-species hair that runs down Elijah’s spine with his fingers to ground himself. “You’ve been so worried about something lately. What is it?”

There was no answer from Elijah because the stomping of feet through the towering grass blades silences them both. Louis waits to arm himself and clasps his hand over Elijah’s mouth, jumping to his feet at the same time that the imposing presence promises to break through the last clump of shrubbery. A dagger is gripped defensively in the hand at his back but its purposes dies suddenly when the face that arises is Lady Elizabeth’s Alpha with the hardened pity of his constant thoughts.

His head is shaven bald by choice except for the horrific scar extending from the crest of spine, and his facial hair is reduced to a scruffy shadow across his jaw. Cassius looks like he hasn’t slept in the days that it took Louis to send his memory to the back of his mind, and the bruised bags under his eyes speak for him. Donning nothing except deep red jeans and boots to survive the wilderness in these parts, Cassius looked more frightened by being discovered than he should.

“Cassius, you can’t be here.” Louis shakes his head whilst ordering the foreign Were off. “Your pack was told to leave days ago. If you’re found on our territory by-”

“We couldn’t leave before getting an answer from you.”

Louis sighed from exhaustion that had nothing to do with his physical exertion. He crossed his arms over his chest and let Elijah settle down behind him before speaking again. “Cassius, to stay here is to let your pack witness you submitting to another Alpha.”

The Were in his presence shakes his head vehemently, his expression morphing into one of pain. “Pride is not of importance to me. My pack must be secure and pleased with their leader.”

“And they are neither right now?”

A terse nod of his head speaks for Cassius. He raises his head from bowing to the ground and Louis feels the whipping of his heart afresh, all that strain and agony renewing themselves in his mind. He tries as desperately as he can to not allow his reaction to be one mirroring such horror.

“Lady Elizabeth has a right to her pack, Cassius. I can’t dethrone her without valid reason and evidence.”

The Alpha steps forward then and holds out his hand for Louis to accept when he feels ready. With the longing present in Cassius’ gaze, Louis has to clench his fists and grind his jaw to keep from pouncing on a beast that is in need of his aid. Much is surrounding Louis’ life and his troubles are skyrocketing to unfathomable levels above the clouds, but matters of his creatures are forever his dearest.

“An Alpha has one responsibility remaining after his Lady takes over for him.” Cassius says slowly, unsure of what would be Louis’ response. “He may remove the pack from her care if she is unfit to protect them.”

Louis was not aware of this rule and stores it away for later when he can bring it up with Tore. However, his current surprise is unsurpassed and he finds himself shifting awkwardly in his footing. “You would break Lady Elizabeth’s heart.”

Cassius growls, an undertone of hurt surfacing from the upset sound. “She was once as passionate about the wolves as you but she craves something I cannot allow her to have. Elizabeth wants power more than she cares for us, my Lord.”

Louis cringes at the prospect. “I am sorry, Alpha.”

“Our youngest has been recently discovered in the caves of Edingrove. He is but a child, my Lord, and has an impressionable enough mind to let Elizabeth turn him into a minion of hers.”

With little thought, Louis further discovers that the pack from afar is residing in a temporary camp just beyond the territory of his Weres. The Alpha stayed there, against his title and reputation, in cloth tents around a modest fire. Louis would not see it for he feared that he’s fold any apprehension he possesses when he begins to pity them. He asks against the nature within him that screams in a high pitch to grab Cassius and hold him until the bogeyman is gone, that they be patient for one more night while he discusses the merge with Torement.

His own Alpha was unsurprisingly cautious. Tore stood by the window of their bedroom where he was overlooking the Weres retiring from the packhouse to their homes, and the moon that guarded them all from total darkness. He was not a fan of clothing nor fond of chastity as was all Louis’ wolves, and his semi-nudity was no shock. The night was chilly but Torement’s shameless tiny briefs were all he could stand.

“This Alpha would so simply resign his post to me?” Torement studied Louis intently. The boy was grim and worried where he sat on the bed and chewed on his lip. “No Alpha should be so willing to succumb.”

“I doubt he has much of a choice, Tore.” Louis met his eye and there was a scowl in his gaze, one that stemmed from Louis’ irritation that he’s here in a perfectly carved home while beasts of his favour stayed exposed to the harsh environment outside.

Torement came to sit next to his frustrated future mate and held him. The brute strength and weight of having him cuddle Louis made the latter feel more at ease. “They will be blood oathed to us and will not attend our Bonding ceremony. You have excellent judgment and I will not live to see you displeased, but these wolves are outsiders and until their loyalty is proved to our _Fera_ they will have to be treated as such.”

Their pack was remarkably open to the merging of their packs and after the vow of blood oathing the new Weres to the Alpha, they were entirely welcoming. To aid their brothers was to honour their ancestors in the most worthy manner, despite the poor circumstances under which they met. Cassius was exceptionally grateful for the acceptance and acquiesced when Torement demanded the vow of loyalty immediately.

Louis always found the ritual of blood oathing – an unbreakable promise that bound the lower subject to their leader – to be a tad barbaric, but he was somewhat relieved when Cassius underwent the process without a flinch. The ten Weres with him had to also use a dagger supplied by Torement to slit their wrists until a gruesome maroon river flowed to the ground, letting the wound lay vulnerable while Torement sliced the edge of his palm and let a drop of his own blood fall into their injuries. Their skin healed instantly with the permanent black mark of a wolf’s canine over where the skin was once split open.

One Were’s mark turned scalding red and did not die, which is when Cassius lunged at him. Louis barely made it off his perch before his own pack with their new brothers surrounded the brutal fight in a circle, and even Torement strode towards Louis without an ounce of concern. He took Louis by his hips and kissed his forehead, his back to the unsettling sounds of combat while Louis witnessed Cassius’ Were form snarl at his opponent, who remained human.

“A mark is red when the oath is false.” Louis recited from a parchment he read in the company of Arthur decades ago. He took a deep breath and swallowed his regret. “Why isn’t he fighting back?”

The traitorous Were was on his back while Cassius’ black Were form stood on two great legs, muscles rippling beneath soft fur while sharp molars were all revealed at once in his vicious rumble. He threw himself at the unresisting Were of his own pack that dare come with falsehood in his heart, and Louis heard the ripping of flesh, the crack of bone and one senseless tear as a head was ripped from the shoulders it used to mount.

“He had doubt in his heart.” Torement spoke softly in Louis’ ear though he knew violence was a sweet companion in Louis’ life. “Cassius will not regret killing him.”

“What if he was just scared about this?”

“Fear does not reflect in a blood oath. That Were would have betrayed us in the future and I’d much rather have his head today rather than waiting for that time when he does.” The mountainous Alpha picks Louis up by his thighs and lets him watch the fight from this new vantage point. No shudder or unease resides in his intended mate and it makes Torement smile.

*    *    *    *    *

Harry saw Louis coming when Sovereign appeared from the trees, but he stood on the balcony in full awareness that his lover is returning to his castle this night. He felt the rain strike his bare upper body and soak through the fabric of his pants; the cold did nothing to him for there was a raging warmth in his chest that no Immortal possessed without a beloved.

He watched the guards open the iron gates and raise the platform again over their trench, before gesturing for his attendants to make themselves scarce. Louis rode into the courtyard below him in his deep black cloak that rode the wind that flew beneath it. His boy was lowering his hood but already searching any platform for the set of eyes he yearned, and swiftly dismounted at the same time that Harry used his arms to hoist his weight up and over. He fell to the ground with feline precision, not an injury in sight.

Louis was wrapped around him within a set of heartbeats, and Harry held him like forces were finally strong enough to pry them apart. He had a pained frown etched into his brow but his urgency was no less passionate, for he gripped Louis like a vice and inhaled his familiar scent to rejuvenate what decayed in the boy’s absence. Revival was imminent. Louis crossed his legs around Harry’s waist and let the rain drown them; his fingers pressed into Harry’s shoulders and his face hid in the King’s neck.

“My fair warrior, you have come back to me at last.” Harry felt Louis’ week-long absence like a punishment from the Gods and his voice was hoarse with emotion. He felt Louis breath on his skin, and knew this was real.

Louis captured the sides of Harry’s face and took his kiss with enough fervour to make any onlooker blush. He kept their lips united until his lungs were aching. “Take me to your bed, my King. I have much to make up for.”

They went into the darkest hours wrapped up in one another. Louis missed Harry’s body against his and under the ministration of his hands, so he rewarded his lover with numerous pleasured noises. Harry was in a fury to render his passion correctly and often lost his focus on a gently pace to take Louis quicker, harder. He’d allow their bodies to grow glistening with sweat and for Louis’ voice to cloud his thoughts for hours. Whichever rare spark they ignited remained ablaze for countless moments while they re-explored the territory of love-making.

The Immortal King is commanded and exhausted by none, but there came a time when he blew out all the candles and rolled on top of Louis with no intention other than to bask in their reunion. He let Louis’ legs entangle with his and rested his cheek on the boy’s belly, listening to the pants of an Immortal that could breathe.

“Much has happened to you then.” Harry chuckled after hearing Louis’ concise account of what occurred while he was away. “I must commend Torement on accepting another pack. It is not something I would do easily.”

“They’re bound to him by blood, Harry. Any act of dishonesty will be severely punished by their own body.” Louis thought of the Were that was a traitor before he entered the pack and how encouraged it was to deliver the harshest punishment.

Harry delivered a sensual trail of kisses down the arch of Louis’ neck and nipped harmlessly at the throbbing pulse nestled beneath a surface of pearly skin. “Allow me to congratulate you and your Alpha on the newest additions to your pack.”

Louis ignored the hint of mirth in Harry’s tone and made himself comfortable amongst his palace of pillows. “Cassius left this morning to tell the rest of his pack. I fear their Lady’s reaction.”

“Fear and you are not well suited.” Harry quirks an eyebrow at Louis’ confession. “Perhaps you really fear that this foreign Alpha has fooled you.”

“It’s a lot of trouble to go through for a practical joke.”

“It is, but many have endeavoured to be so thorough. My fair warrior, I ask that you tread cautiously henceforth. I have nothing but the highest respect for your abilities but there is always the risk that this great game has grown too frightening for any of us.”

*    *    *    *    *

The visiting covens all took their leave at dawn, the vampires tucked away into the safety of their sealed coffins where sunlight could not find them. Harry bid them adieu from the balcony of his bedroom, forever fitting his reputation as the untouchable King that lower Immortals ought to revere. He spent ten minutes waving at the departing parties before retiring to his bed where Louis was dozing softly and hidden by a heap of sheets. Dawn struck when Harry was almost unawares, and the shutters slammed shut before the King could be scorched.

Louis, hours later, discovered that just one guest had not left at the earliest opportunity and he winced at the mention of the Count’s name amongst the servants. He had taken two fair women to his room last night and none of them have resurfaced despite it being such midday. Louis took it upon himself after much deliberation to knock bravely on Stefan’s door. The Immortal never slept even if the sun was his enemy; he’d drain anyone that was willing so he never had to close his eyes and be unguarded.

“Stefan, where are the girls?” Louis asked as soon as the door opened and he barely noticed that his host was entirely nude. “Damn it. Put some clothes on.”

The Count, negligent towards any remorse that should be felt as his latest crimes were the most grave, chuckled boisterously before allowing Louis into his room. He felt it to be no burden, even if he had one more thing to say to Louis. “Sit, _seles’meus._ ”

Louis clears his throat and diverts his attention from the twin bodies on the bed, still breathing but lacking any modesty. He faces Stefan for brief glimpses at a time, but mainly concentrates on the background of the vampire. “The servants thought something was wrong.”

“So you decided to check on me, or just them? You flatter me, Louis.” The Count moves toward a silver tray of alcohol and pours himself a glass of the strongest kind, his unused palm remaining in a tight fist. “You barely look at me, s _eles’meus._ And when you do it is as if you’re thoroughly annoyed with me.”

“Imagine that.” Louis murmurs sarcastically. He shakes his head the amber glass offered to him.

Stefan abandoned his glass as well on w him by dropping them and simply stepping over the mess to reach Louis. The crash awakens the girls and their consciousness bothers the Count. “Get out!”

A few disgruntled but weak excuses later, Louis hears the dungeon door close. He takes a shaky breath before returning to the Immortal in front of him that carries a grand weight and has the wilting emotions to show for it in his gaze. “You told me what you wanted to, Count. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“What do you think of my eyes?”

Louis blinks, taken aback by the query. “What?”

“My eyes.” Stefan clarifies, his lips set in a thin line. “What do you think of them, s _eles’meus_?”

Refusing to be backed against a wall where he had minimum passage of manoeuvring, Louis places his palm on Stefan’s chest to stop his stalking forward. “Why do you care?”

“Amuse me.” Stefan smirks.

“No.”

The smirk, like the accompanying villainous tint to his eyes, hardens to something toxic. “My skin then.”

Louis can’t fathom the reason behind these questions but he is certain that they set his mental alarms on red. “Just like anybody else’s.”

“This.” Stefan moves Louis’ hand to the steel plate across his heart. “You often look at it. Do you hate it so much?”

“This conversation is no more curious than it is annoying, Stefan. I’m leaving.” Louis takes back his wrist and shoves the broad shoulder in his path but there was no preparation to escape the lips that met his temple or the husky laughter that followed. Stefan remained in the shadows while Louis left hurriedly.

*    *    *    *    *

Louis stared at Harry when the King said it and took heed of none of the man’s rage. He felt the world tilt in a way it never did before when his head lowered to the shiver in his hands, and the pounding from his skull worsened until it radiated from every vital organ. Harry was shouting to his guards for the arrest and the General was all too pleased, but Louis was moving faster than all of them. He didn’t hear Harry call to him and bolted down the hallway to the entrance to the dungeons, turning back to bolt it against the invasion of the warriors on their way.

Stone and gravel crunched under his shoes as he ran harder than his muscles were comfortable with, to reach Stefan’s door. No knocking was called for, and Louis burst into the Immortal’s quarters without breath or thought. All was plunged in black clusters of shadows from corner to centre, and the lack of windows was only more haunting. Stefan knew he had arrived and strolled out of the darkness he was born in the arms of, his hands tucked into the pockets of his formal trousers and a salacious grin on display. His shoes clicked on the stone flooring as the Count drew closer with such grace that it appeared as if he was floating, all lean and fearlessness.

“You confessed.” Louis could not recognise his own voice. “Stefan, do you-”

“Do I know what your King is capable of? Yes, _seles’meus_ , I am not one of your tamed beasts that need to have my hand held.” Stefan kept the sting out of his words by greeting his lovely guest with a kiss on his cheek.

“Don’t do this.” Louis whispered, helpless as he peered desperately at the Count. “Harry will see you dead for something like this.”

“And I deserve it then, yes?” Stefan tilted Louis’ head back by his chin and winked down at the trembling boy. “I can finally rest knowing you cared for me even this little.”

Louis scrambled for anything to say. He heard the bolted door being broken down by the soldiers following the orders of their King. “I love how red your eyes are. They’re like-”

“Hush.” Stefan shook with his laughter, genuine or a façade. Stampeding footsteps grew deafening as they approached the door. “You should know that I’d have given a great deal of my person to have you in my bed just once.”

Louis could not find it in him to be offended or angered. “I appreciate it but nothing you have can buy me.”

*    *    *    *    *

The King was with his Council and Louis was forbidden from going in, from hearing the verdict as it was being decided. He mentally cursed as he remembered pleading with Stefan to be silent, to keep this one bit of reality to himself. Now, the fearless Immortal had his fate to embrace and as he leaned casually against the pillar furthest from Louis, there was no sign that he wanted to repent. Louis chewed his fingernail until it bled, paced until his feet had blisters and tugged on his hair until his scalp was numb.

Regardless of all aforementioned notions about the Count, he was one of the few powerful and honest allies Louis had. _A friend._ How could he ever forsake such a companion?

Harry’s guards were vigilant as they barricaded the chamber doors and patrolled the hallways to keep unwanted audiences away. Familiar faces they were but Louis did not pay them mind like he customarily did; he did not ask about their families or incessantly bother them about their duties. He was a molten case of tension and Stefan watched as the boy tore his mind apart for a way out of this.

“Come here, _seles’meus._ ” The Count called to him with both arms extended, palms towards the skies that were as grey as Louis’ thoughts.

“No, you bastard.” Louis dismissively waved his hand at the other with as deep a frown as is possible.

Stefan’s grim expression did not falter. He remained poised and patient until Louis folded his argument and approached him. Louis effortlessly became a bundle in his arms, falling against Stefan’s solid chest and nuzzling where the chest plate was. The scent of citrus reached the Count’s senses, trailed by the saltiness of damp skin. Stefan hesitated for just a moment when he let Louis decide on a position to settle into before wrapping his arms around the other, holding on as fervently with the strength of all his abilities.

“Why is it that you need comforting at this time?” Stefan mused, his nose buried in Louis’ hair. He fell back against the pillar and brought Louis between his legs.

Louis squeezed his eyes shut and held on tightly. “Don’t make me kick you, Count.”

A gruff chuckle filled the air. “You could never get the upper hand on me, _seles’meus._ ”

No words come from either of them following that. Stefan contemplates in his personal turmoil while Louis partakes in it, both gripping the presence of the other like vices. There was desperation in merely their clinging acts that seemed to promise victory on their side. Louis fisted the back of the velvet shirt that the Count donned and tried in vain to slow his heart rate. He doesn’t know if he had blacked out from the current planes of life momentarily because the chamber doors were peeling back and Louis was in ruins.

“No, no.” He croaked, panicked but outwardly impassive. Whatever controlled his motor reflexes would not release the Count any more that Stefan would not unwind his arm from Louis’ shoulders.

Louis could not see when the sworn messenger stepped out to beckon them. “It has been decided, Count Vasiles.”

“Yes?” Stefan had no edge to his voice, no fright to display. He released Louis when the latter requested it and stepped forth with a raised eyebrow as if he weren’t under scrutiny. “What has your King decided will be my punishment?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What doth thee think-ith?"


	7. VII

Louis feels as if he’s been sprinting through hallways his entire life. Whether it was earlier in his years when he still had reason to fear the monsters lurking under his bed or in his closet, or when he melted into his suit as a warrior with purposes to avenge. He doesn’t hate the chase, at least when he’s not the one being hunted.

He chose between hoisting himself up into the thicket of trees and burying himself beneath a cluster of dried leaves that fell from the lowest branches. His footing slipped at the exact moment he predicted and Louis used the manufactured momentum to slip between the boulders that would put him into a little alcove of security. The clawed fingers seeking him out passed overhead with a screech at failing the capture.

A heavy thud signalled the foul creature had landed on the stouter rock and Louis raised his head to see those familiar dead eyes peering down at him. “You win this time, my Lord.”

These exercises with his demons were proving to be exceptionally productive. Lucien was no longer the brain of the seven undead creatures as the others were beginning to form their own thoughts the longer Louis trained them individually. He never thought he’d find a day to be proud of demons.

Louis held his hand out and Lucien grabbed onto him, hauling his Master out of the unworthy ditch so they may both sit on the solid peak. He shook off the sharpness from his appendages and returned to his human form, merely the deathly crimson of his eyes reminding anyone that he is demon. “This night is beautiful, Master.”

Hugging his knees to his chest, Louis allowed his demon to nuzzle the highest point on his thigh. “Is that really what you want to say, Lucien?”

“Nay, but I’d rather not offend you.” Lucien wrapped both his arms around Louis’ right leg and tipped his head back for direct eye contact. “Will the Count Vasiles be allowed to leave now that the King knows the truth?”

Louis wishes upon all the stars every night that the memory of waiting for a harsh verdict won’t return to him when he is vulnerable. He swallows thickly and recalls the bitter-sweet happening.

Stefan displayed no fear for the outcome and all its possibilities while Louis was in emotional ruins. He couldn’t explain or fathom his own passionately disillusioned behaviour, but Louis is glad he came to realise that he was as good a friend to the Count as the loyalty reciprocated to him. Harry didn’t summon the Count into the council chamber and instead emerged from it in his terribly formal attire to announce personally what was to happen.

The Immortal King never had such a murderous look in his eye before as he did then and Louis was cautious about his own lover in those moments. His jaw was set in a grim tension and his eyes were dead-set on punishment in a form just one notch below lethal. Harry was more beast than man when he barked the order at his soldiers that the traitor and criminal was to be flogged periodically for eight nights whilst tied to the courtyard’s centre. Ash was sprayed on Stefan’s back so the bleeding would not cease until the end of his sentence, which had ended last night.

Louis was there every dawn when the _Naga_ escorted Stefan to his prison cell and while the Count was supposed to be starved, Louis would open a vein for him so the vampire did not wither. They sat on the disgusting cell floor so Stefan could indulge in the tender delicacy of Louis’ blood – a forbidden treat for him – whilst trying to find humour in their horrid circumstances.

“I really don’t know, Lucien.” Louis sighs defeatedly. After being the one to support Stefan after they unchained him today, he is feeling as wrung out as can be.

The demon did not question him further on the matter and they rose from their perches when both were ready to abandon the sanctity of the woods at midnight. Lucien’s arms encircled Louis’ shoulders before the latter could comprehend the act, and they were crashing to the ground in front of the packhouse instantly. Demons’ had the ability to transport themselves effortlessly with the wind as the sole medium and Louis has yet to get accustomed to being a passenger.

“You need to warn me first, Lucien.” Louis holds his head and waits for the world to stop spinning in his vision. “That’s an order.”

“Yes, Master. My apologies.” The demon picks Louis up to set him on the patio staircase before kissing his protector’s cheek and vanishing.

Before him, Louis sees the remnants of the fire that soared at one hour of the night and now wilted beneath the glorious moon. The youngest of his pack enjoyed their time around the fire and now that they were home to an additional one hundred Weres the midnight festivity has only grown in popularity. However, the youngest Were was never allowed outside without someone of noteworthy responsibility. At only three years of age by any count, Samuel was still in need of the most care and Louis found himself being protective enough to a degree where a few Weres were allowed to be in the toddler’s company at all.

Louis’ mind drifted swiftly to what awaited him at the castle when he returned. His gaze flickered to the cottage attached to the packhouse’s rear, where he resided with most of the people in his life he would kill for. Elijah and Vladimir shared a room beside Louis’ and Torement’s master bedroom. The guestroom downstairs has been claimed just today when Louis loaded Stefan into a sealed carriage before any of the guards could get their hands on him. His demons were often moving through the house as it was their home too but Louis knew they preferred to sleep where it was darkest, which made the cellar beneath the packhouse ideal.

“Do you wish for me to bring you a blanket and pillow?” Tyerant’s voice from somewhere behind him startled Louis out of his reminiscent thoughts.

“You may have to.” Louis yawned, depicting for once that he is susceptible to exhaustion and fatigue. He has had one too many long days and it’s beginning to show.

Tyerant takes up a seat beside Louis where he parts his endless legs and angles his knees so one can conveniently rest against Louis’. “Stefan is resting. We managed to bolt his windows shut in time.”

“Thank you.” Louis manages a smile and spreads out his legs, stretching them before they become stiff. “I know that bringing him here is far from ideal for the pack but I couldn’t leave him there while he’s recovering.”

“We knew you would want him somewhere you can look after him while he recovers.” Tyerant is as committed to shielding their pack from any outsiders as his older brother, but he knew Louis’ priorities were many. “I’d forsake any friend that left me in the hands of those that almost killed me.”

*    *    *    *    *

Louis had to be reminded to eat by Vlad while the leopard roamed the second floor hallway with a dozing pup in his arms. Sam slept best when someone held him and now he had plenty of faces to become familiar with. Having a baby amongst fully grown Weres was predicted to be the toughest challenge any of them could face, but Louis was astonished to find that each brother took to caring for the little one dutifully. While the sound of light feline footing caused the floorboards to creak above, Louis devoured his meal in a hurry so he can be there when Stefan awakens.

Stefan’s bedroom has had its windows boarded up, the lightbulbs removed and any crack that could let in light sealed. Louis was vigilant in his inspection and frighteningly strict when it came to him being the only one allowed to take care of the renovations; his scent is the only one in the room besides the Count’s.

Louis sits beside the unconscious Count’s bed and curls up on the lonesome chair. He relishes in the darkness that shamelessly envelopes him and hides from the world, the dampness of his cheeks that is growing more prominent. The bleeding wounds on his companion’s back are hideous and to the worst degree of anguish. They ran along the curve of Stefan’s back in various lengths and widths, but all bleeding with crusted ash keeping the flesh gaping. Louis had cleaned them as much as he could so the skin will heal but the valleys of gashes will remain forever.

The room stank with the lingering odour of rotting flesh and Louis felt as if the taste of Stefan’s dying cells hung in the air. Louis had to pour alcohol on the injuries and listen to Stefan scream in his sleep while the wounds were cleansed. Unfortunately, it would take a great deal of time for such a severe lashing to be overcome. Looking at the poor state of Stefan’s back that’s been torn apart and ripped by the whippings made Louis feel an array of piping emotions. Where skin should be there was raw muscle, damp with dripping blood and twitching from spasms.

Stefan never slept and to see him now, oblivious to the world, broke Louis’ heart. He either trusted Louis to protect him from merciless pursuers while he recuperated or the Count was so weak that he had no choice.

“You better wake up.” Louis brushed some stray locks of damp hair from the Count’s face and wiped the sweat from his brow. “I need to yell at you for being a fool so wake up, damn it.”

*    *    *    *    *

Louis was livid at the sight before him. “What is going on here?”

He jogged down the steps of the packhouse and met the intruders before they could come any closer, as they were already beyond their borders by merely setting foot in this territory. Tyerant was there along with X and Richard who stood like a wall of muscle between their most sacred establishment and the intruding _Naga._

The one that seemed to lead to five warriors came forth on his humbling stallion, and an apology was void in his gaze. “The King requests your presence.”

“This territory is not ruled by the King.” Louis fired back venomously. He was infuriated by whoever it is that took the liberty of entering the home of his Weres without permission. “Coming here puts you at my mercy.”

“We answer to the King, my Lord. He was very insistent.”

“ _I_ am very insistent.” Louis seethed. “You have thirty seconds to get across those fields to the castle or there won’t be enough left of you to report back to the King.”

Hours later, after Louis got as much done within the pack as he could, he left on Sovereign to find the King. Harry always rendered the finest feelings of adoration and compassion in Louis but something was blocking his true emotions. He was bitter and tired beyond all measure until being in his lover’s study only seemed to unsettle him, and Harry noticed every bit of the change with sour disposition.

“You take issue with being here?” Harry hid his pain at having to witness his displeased beloved stand before him.

Louis sighed, finally draining of all fierceness so he may sag against the door in defeat. “You shouldn’t have sent your guards into our territory, Harry.”

Something flickered across Harry’s gaze but he refrained from speaking for a few seconds. “I was desperate to know that you were okay. I haven’t seen you in d _ays._ ”

“I’m sorry.” Louis rips his cloak off his shoulders and tosses it to the ground so he can travel unburdened towards his lover. Once within close proximity, Harry took it upon himself to wrap Louis up in his arms. “I need to be there now, Harry.”

“Because you have to take care of the Count.”

“Yes.” Louis did not hesitate. “He needs to be taken care of.”

Harry scoffs, amused by the statement. “The second-to-last Immortal that would ever need to be taken care of is Count Stefan Vasiles.”

Louis would have, under nearly all other circumstances, have asked who the first Immortal in that shortlist was but he has been put to strain one too many times in recent history. “I ask that you please never invade our territory again. Your _Naga_ will not be so lucky to survive next time.”

“Do not be so formal with the man who has tasted you for himself.” Harry rests his forehead against Louis’ and even he sounds cautious. This side of Louis is new terrain for the Immortal King. “I apologise, my fair warrior. I did not think of the repercussions.”

“Thank you.”

Louis nuzzles his favourite spot in the crook of Harry’s shoulder where he can relish in the presence of his mate all around him, frowning however when it doesn’t feel as astonishingly _warm_ as it used to. He resents the time spent away from his beloved other but it seems that the product of being with the pack and to themselves as possible has become that Tore – his Alpha in the near future – dictates a fair amount of his emotions.

Later that night they lay awake together watching the moon take advantage of being at its midnight hour peak, with silver moonlight hitting their skin from the gaping windows. Harry is trailing his knuckles along Louis’ hip and belly while he finds satisfaction in reuniting with his Bonding soul-mate. Occasionally he would hear Louis hum and smile, whilst arching into the boy’s touch where Louis was rubbing his scalp with gentle fingers.

“How much grander has your horde of wolves become now, my beauty?” Harry whispers, settling down against the thrum of Louis’ heartbeat for his peaceful induction to slumber.

Louis feels an overwhelming pride welling in his chest when his Weres are brought up to discuss. He smiles to himself in the darkness. “A hundred and fifty more have come into our territory.”

“They’re all blood oathed to you?”

“Not to me, to Tore.” Louis waits and discovers no tension or discomfort being exuded from his companion.

Harry winds his arms lazily around his mate, breathing in deep the aroma of previous love-making when his scent clings to Louis’ body. “Tell me about the newest members.”

Louis does. He begins with the trials and difficulties of having a near new-born under their care after decades of consisting of merely fully grown Were fighters. The child, Samuel, took to Vlad as a parental figure more than anyone else despite Louis’ vigilant care; he reasoned it as him constantly having to be away to tend to their pack or his creatures. Harry comes to know about how cooperative both packs are being about their combination on a singular home ground and the added comfort that came from having extra hands around the territory.

He however, left out telling the King about the contrasts between their packs. Cassius had indeed become the Alpha of a smaller pack but when Louis got to assess each one he understood how unlike ordinary Weres they were. Something about them blared danger more than his own wolves but not in a way that sent his alarms into a frenzy. Cassius’ Weres had gone through individually some horror that tainted a bit of peace that every creature deserved; they walked around with tense shoulders and just darkness in their eyes. Overwhelming, destructive darkness.

*    *    *    *    *

Stefan awoke while Louis was training one of the other demons, Sebastian. The creature was quick when Louis played his victim and more than once made Louis rethink his escape strategy. It _almost_ planted a seed of doubt in Louis’ mind to have such elegantly dark monsters under his control until Sebastian saw this concern and ended the internal feud. He came up to his protector, in all his mountainous and lilac coloured eyes glory, so he may kiss Louis’ forehead.

“I am loyal to you, Master.” Sebastian spoke softly, secretively. His head snapped in the direction of someone’s weight crunching a twig and hisses, until it is only revealed to be Vlad.

The leopard switches forms from his sleek and golden animal form to his human visage instantly, his eyes wild and his quivering being urgent. “He’s awake, Lou.”

Louis need not ask of who the creature speaks before he’s grabbing Sebastian’s arm and demanding to be taken back in the swiftest manner. His eyes close on the demon enveloping him and reopen to landing on the packhouse porch. He seals his gratitude in the dipping of his lips to Sebastian’s cheek before sprinting through the doorway and finding the bedroom where Stefan has been housed. Nobody stood hovering about the door except Torement who seized Louis by his waist before the latter could kick anything over. Louis’ back collides with Tore’s firm chest in an audible slam that knocks the breath out of the former.

“Easy, _nala_.” Tore’s arms are firm reminders of his brute strength and no vastness of strategy will free Louis from those restraints. He allows the physical dominance of his Alpha to overwhelm him temporarily so that his thundering heartbeat eases, along with his frayed nerves. “He is awake but has not said anything to your leopard or I. He is waiting only for you.”

Louis flexes his fingers over Tore’s broad forearm and the bulging veins that stem from it. He remains staring at the door as if transfixed but listens to the soothing timbre of Torement’s voice. “I want to go in. I need to see him.”

“Are you-?”

“Tore, you are my Alpha and I have admitted to having feelings for you that we cherish but if you do not let me go right now I will put you on your ass.”

He is released reluctantly following the threat and not without a suppressed glint of mirth in Torement’s gaze that imprints itself in Louis’ memory. There were rare, irreplaceable moments in time when Torement allowed himself to be amused by Louis’ slight antics and each time was in private without other eyes. It was unsaid by the Alpha but Louis knew it was like a gift of a more intimate nature to hold the only key for the Were’s humour.

“If you need anything, _nala,_ scream.” Torement leans in to kiss Louis’ cheek with a smirk curling his lips before backing off.

Louis pushes the door open in serene silence with his flattened palm to welcome the abundance of pitch black shadows that resided in Stefan’ bedroom at all hours. He felt his lungs tighten at the holding of his breath as he stepped through and let the only sound be the closing door’s creak. It settled back into his hinges and Louis was plunged into a whole new, metaphysical form of darkness.

Lying on the bed was Stefan’s familiar outline and that was all to see besides the sealed windows; all sound was absent besides the thumping of a pulse in Louis’ temple. He was less anxious than he was on the other side of the door and blamed Torement for bringing any kind of peace to his heart.

Red flickered to life in a deep-set shade from the head of the mattress and Louis was instantly drawn to it. While his feet remained rooted to the floor, his eyes were unrelenting from those bloody eyes that could never be found on another Immortal. The Count’s eyes were indicative of his past and the hobbies that they comprised of but there was no malice in them at the times that Louis saw those orbs.

“The first thing I saw when I woke up was your leopard.” The voice from the bed was just as Louis knew it would be – edgy and dripping with silken pride – and the familiarity made Louis smile to himself without any visibility. “He is a pretty sight, your _Vlad._ ”

Louis was too friendly with the Count’s true nature to take the comment seriously. He shuffled towards the bed and dumped any added weights along the way before his knees hit the bedpost. Louis sank to his knees and let his arms rest on the mattress, which brought his face closer to Stefan’s shoulder. His vision at night was always reliable and Louis could see clearly Stefan’s blinking crimson eyes watching him with just as much commitment.

“How are you feeling?” Louis reached out and cupped the Count’s left cheek, keeping his voice low and private. He caressed the icy skin with his thumb and felt his eyes sting at how weak the vampire must be to fail in rejuvenating his body heat.

Stefan made an uncomfortable sound in his throat and before Louis could pull away a larger, colder palm fell over his to secure his hold there. Louis moved closer to the form on the bed and let Stefan’s deathly frigid hand grip his own, his fingers crushed in the unusually intimate firmness. “I’m not dead, _seles’meus_ , and that is all I care for.”

“You got too close to proving that statement a lie.” Louis moves his hand to the back of Stefan’s neck and neglects the groan he draws from the healing Immortal when he kneels forward, resting his forehead against Stefan’s temple. He breathes shakily but his relief is an undying purity in all Louis’ actions. “Are you going to give me a hard time about staying here until you’re fully healed?”

“Perhaps.” The Count is smirking and Louis does not have to have a visual to know it’s true. His lips rest too close to Stefan’s in this moment but Louis does not seem to realise it, for the priority immediately is to reassure each other of the other’s presence. “I will need blood, _seles’meus._ I cannot make this recovery without aid.”

Louis nods, already having prepared for this. He stands awkwardly after it is revealed that Stefan is not going to release his hand so soon. Finding a quaint enough spot beside Stefan to lie is a challenge that Louis did not anticipate. For a brief minute he contemplates the position in which he will lay before the Counts shifts ever so slightly, allowing Louis enough space. The protector remembers all the times he had to help Harry heal and sees the same urgency for Stefan’s case.

He strips off his shirt and lies down on his side next to the terribly cold body of his untameable friend from lands away. Louis looks at his companion with minimal sympathy and tempests of fear. Before an argument can fester in his subconscious, Louis offers his wrist to the Immortal.

Stefan holds Louis’ elbow and wrist in both his hands, revelling in the warmth radiating from the boy next to him. He places the gentlest of kisses on the spot he will pierce. “The guard who first chained me in the courtyard took my pendant of your blood.”

Louis sucks in a sharp breath at the sudden penetration of his flesh, trying not to wince at the unusual pain that accompanies the act. He has offered his blood before and never has it hurt this way. The Count is at Louis’ wrist for a long while, his tongue swiping over those stray few droplets that ought to never be wasted, and his teeth lodged in a punctured vein so the sweetest taste laces his mouth. Stefan moans at the replenishment of his strength that occurs in slight hitches, and he loses his senses for the moment it takes him to switch blood sources.

He is at Louis’ throat in an unprecedented second, a dreadfully unkind hiss falling from his lips as he bares his extended fangs and buries them in Louis’ neck. The angle is too unfavourable to the act and Louis’ resistance is overpowered temporarily for the Count to get him astride his lap, sitting upright to drink from the most intoxicating opening.

Stefan cradles the back of Louis’ skull as he drinks and his arm becomes too harsh around Louis’ waist but for these short moments, his victim ignores the primitive mistreatment. Louis’ blood is no different to when the Count first stole the honour of tasting it and he wonders how he ever survived years without another dose. The kiss of a fair friend’s blood is unforgettable.

“Easy.” Louis pushes uselessly against Stefan’s tense shoulders. He feels the draws on his vein and reaches up to fist the vampire’s hair, tugging painfully. “You can’t leave me dry, Count.”

The pale fangs that stabbed through flesh withdrew but did not disappear from sight. Louis could see their bloody glistening state well after Stefan ran his tongue over them and moaned drunkenly at the final residue of the taste. The wounds healed and scars took their place. Louis helped Stefan lay back down on his pillows and got off him, batting those hands that tried to keep him there.

“I quite like you on top of me.” The Count’s words are slurred and without articulation. He licks his lips again and Louis laughs at the frown he makes.

“I will be on top of you again soon, Count.” Louis taunts, combing the silver locks back over Stefan’s shoulders and kissing his warming cheek. “When we get to finish that first fight, that is.”

“Not the context I hope for but I have no complaints, _seles’meus_.”

*    *    *    *    *

Torement has had Louis in their bed for a whole week and he has commemorated the honour by taking his future mate beyond the pack territory in the dead of the night to find the meadow from which the moon was most distinguishable amongst all the treetops. Louis watched his Alpha change forms to his upright, monstrous Were with a broad muzzle and hulking muscles. His claws were terribly large and sharp enough to cause a gushing wound upon striking a bear. Louis stood on a boulder and reprimanded the beast for killing a creature unnecessarily.

The Alpha retired from his display to lounge on the rock beside Louis, becoming the proudest cushion on which he can lay. Hours pass quickly when Torement switches back and they begin to exchange stories from their past. Louis shares his history with each of the creatures under his care and the tale before it all began. He speaks Harry’s name with a warmth and fondness that makes Torement envious but also proud. One day, he will have Louis recite his name in the same manner.

It is also decided that tragedy will continue to strike their worlds if they do not move quickly on the Bonding ceremony. Louis experiences a brief shudder at the reminder but nothing to worry either party. He agrees that the first stages should commence tomorrow, known as The Parting. Torement’s frown at the implication helps to ease Louis’ nerves and make him giggle.

For The Parting, Torement must select few members of the pack to go with him during a separation from the pack. It is also a trial period for the intended mate to ascertain whether they have the skill to lead a Were pack, which promises to be a slight task for Louis after having done it for decades. Torement is only to return after seven nights and during this night of his arrival, the proceedings of the Bonding must take place.

They return to the pack after Louis forces Torement to bury the slaughtered bear. Tyerant whistles when he happens by them on his way to toss more logs into the tall fire surrounded by numerous members of their pack. His act elicits the attention of everyone else and soon Louis is laughing at the endless shouts, whistles and howls of the pack. Torement takes Louis to their midst on his back following the eruption of noise that creep up to the clouds with the smoke of their fire.

“Sit with us, my Lou.” Wroth and Viktor shift in their seats to allow Louis some space between them, breaking into raucous laughter when Torement growls to warn them off their forwardness. “Pardon, Alpha.”

“Let them be, Tore. It’s all in jest.” Louis pats the brooding beast’s chest and pulls him to the ground where they sit on the hard earth next to a member of Cassius’ old pack. He seemed surprised to have Louis choose a spot beside him, and bows his head briefly in their direction.

Once the Alpha and his mate sit in a pack gathering, each Were feels it incumbent upon themselves to find their way there as well. Louis would be crowded by members of both packs had Tore not brought him onto his lap and created an invisible barrier around them. Just this once, he will forbid the taking of his future mate away from him.

“Tell us a story, Alpha!” A request tumbles forth from a Were nearby and a consenting rumble picks up from everyone else. Louis knew that the others liked to hear about Torement’s past but also that it took a great deal of light-heartedness to first convince the Alpha.

Torement shakes his head, a silent but resounding no. He captures Louis’ waist in the circle of his arms to apologetically kiss the latter’s neck but offers no explanation.

The disappointment is mildly camouflaged by someone else asking about the impending Bonding ceremony, and Louis knows it to be Sky. He seeks the youngster out in the crowd and rolls his eyes at the chuckle he witnesses. “Tell them, Tore. Can’t say no to everything, can we?”

Acquiescing at the word of his mate, Torement straightens his back and tells the eager pack that their ceremony is near in time. It will take place where the fire stands and will be as tradition dictates. Louis notices as each set of eyes glance at him to gage his reaction but he has long since come to terms with the previously terrifying voyeurism that came with a traditional Bonding ceremony.

“Who will go with you tomorrow, Alpha?” Grym asks from his post closest to the fire.

Torement has no hint of being caught ahead of time in the decision; he surprises Louis in having an answer ready. The pack looks critical in their enthusiasm to hear the names as well being prospective candidates. It is a great honour of a distinguishable esteem to be chosen as an Alpha’s companion; it made a Were out to be all the fierce qualities that were necessary for a warrior.

“My brother.” Torement reaches to his left and squeezes Tyerant’s shoulder; the Were grins so wide thereafter that he almost forgets to respectfully bow his head at the Alpha. “My oldest companion who suffered as I did before my intended love found us.”

Usually one to keep to himself unless directly communicated with and under extreme circumstances, Tehrror quickly became the most independent amongst them. He now stood to accept his honour and dutifully came to sit by the Alpha, his massive size akin to Torement’s lumbering build being one that is difficult to squeeze into any small space. Louis smiles at the beast who glances away after being caught staring at the Alpha’s mate; he mutters something that Louis does not hear but sounds nonetheless self-punishing.

“No other, Alpha?” Zak asks from beside his brother, hidden by the more hulking Weres among them tonight.

Tore glares at the pair of young Weres but Louis urges him to take their prying in his stride, and remember that not all they do is private now. He presses his lips to Torement’s jaw and mumbles a small warning, withdrawing only to rest his chin on the Alpha’s shoulder.

“There is one more, Zak. You may accompany now as well.” Torement stands and takes Louis with him, smirking proudly at the unrest he has set off in ripples through their pack. Zak is stunned for a whole minute before his brother, Sky, attacks him from the side in jealousy.

Louis watches them roll around in the dirt as truly naïve members of their pack but no less vital to what Louis considers the total unity of their brotherhood. He hears murmurs come from the others but Tyerant is highly amused and Tehrror has already slipped away to his cottage. “Was that really necessary?”

Sounds of grunts and that which accompany a brawl between wolf Immortals ensue from the treeline where brothers fought endlessly. Torement looks at Louis with a bemused smirk and nods before parting from the gathering with his mate in tow.

Later, the Alpha stood in his abominable underwear waiting for Louis to grant him access to the bed. “They must come to know what the older Weres have been through now or they will fail us later.”

“They’re our wolves, Tore.” Louis replies indignantly. He rolls over onto his back and scowls at Torement when the latter lies beside him. “Don’t you ever say they will fail us again.”

“They won’t now, _nala_ , because I will be their guide to our true nature.” Torement was bold when he said it and laughed audibly when Louis punched him for the remark.

Louis sat up, fidgety as he always was when his mind was exhausted but riddled with a million burdens all due before his slumber. He stretched one leg out over Torement’s hips and raised his weight with the other, executing the most graceful act of straddling his drowsy Alpha. “If you’re going to do that then make sure they learn well. Risking their lives ought to not be a waste, Tore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Harry hasn't been making many appearances but that is for good reason; I am trying to straighten the story-line (pun?) before beginning the angst. Forgive me, lovelies.
> 
> Someone has asked what time period this is based on and the answer is, no idea. It's a preternatural/supernatural world that is as advanced as us but retains many traditions. So like modern-historic? Let's hear it for the least helpful answer ever.
> 
> Thank you so much, each and every one of you, for reading this. I love you all so much. Please continue to give me your feedback on how much you love/really love this story haha or just tell me I'm crazy because this story sucks. Let me know!


	8. VIII

Louis had spent his night bidding farewell to Torement and his travelling party in the most traditional manner as dictated to him by books swiped from Alfred’s library. This mating may be happening out of necessity but in no way will Louis allow such a grave custom to become meaningless; the bonding of two souls is the oldest form of devotion known in their Immortal world. Creatures would dedicate themselves to one another in entirety so when they hunted to feed, another was provided for as well.

He bid adieu to his Alpha and brethren with affectionate embraces before walking back to their home, slipping in past the dozing Weres to the master bedroom. Originally, he was going to just fall asleep in lieu of fatigue overtaking him but instead Louis pulled on a jacket and swapped his blade for a gun before heading back out. Sovereign made it across the field to Harry’s castle in less time than usual, slipping under the iron gates before they fully raised and leaping up the stairs to the stone corridor where Louis dismounted. The stallion is no stranger to the King’s home and an attendant willingly took the beast into the stables for Louis.

Harry’s study is between his personal library and his bedroom, the three vital components of his personal living chambers. The air those wings swam in has always been chilling and one that set an innocent’s nerves on edge, because each shadow usually housed a guard or morbid Immortal who entertainment was terror. Louis has long since defeated any fear of the bogeyman so he walks through the horror with an unorthodox calm.

“He’s gone then?” Harry questioned Louis while the latter lounged on the sofa in his study.

Louis had his eyes closed under the falsehood of resting them without falling asleep, his arms folded under his head and his face tranquil. “For seven nights, yes.”

The Immortal King smiled down at his paperwork as he shuffled through them. “What will he prove with his absence?”

“That I can take care of the pack without Tore and he can survive any extremity in the wilderness.” Louis explains fairly. “It’s one of their oldest traditions, making one’s self competent in the eyes of any pack brethren or outsider.”

“Interesting.” Harry’s head snapped up in the direction of the door when nothing more than a creak ensued at Louis’ back. “Your demon, Lucien, is here for you.”

Louis opens his mouth to grand the awaiting demon entry to the room but it is unnecessary after a heartbeat because Lucien strolls in, leaving the door to swing back on its hinges. “Manners, Lucien. This is the King’s home.”

“With all due respect, Master-” Lucien minds no prying eye besides his own when he goes to Louis, lying with his head on the boy’s thigh. “-the King is younger than I am. Age is accorded more courtesy than status.”

Louis tugs harshly on the demon’s damp, fiery locks as punishment. He will roll over into his grave before he allows any creature belonging to him to become arrogant. “Again?”

“Apologies, my King.” Lucien reiterates with a hint of disdain. He turns his face into Louis’ belly following his forfeit and is pleased when his Master allows him to. “I’m sorry, Master.”

Louis regards Harry’s bemused smirk with a playful glower. He knows that the mannerisms and upbringing of other immortals matter very little to Harry, but that doesn’t mean Louis will allow them to grow complacent when under his guard. Not all dominant creatures in power are as lenient as Harry.

“Why are you here, Lucien?” Louis asks the rumbling demon. “You’re much less of a cuddler than I am.”

Lucien hisses as if recalling the reason for his interruption offends him. “Sebastian has a new form and it frightens the baby Were. You must convince him to pick another suit of flesh.”

“What is his new form then?” Louis asks with a frown.

“A jester.”

*    *    *    *    *

Louis laughs nearly with enough vigour to fall over when he sees Sebastian, another one of his dear demons, permanently etched into the dull grey eyes of an Immortal who turned himself into a clown. The forgotten vampire had surgically given himself pointed ears, flattened his nose to implant a throbbing sphere in its place, and dyed his hair vibrant red. His upper lip is plumped up by a swelling, his skin purpled by receding life and his nails are sharp, elongated. Sebastian housed no regret for claiming such an outstanding form and even grinned when Louis seemed so pleased with him.

“Well this is utterly frightening to anyone so young, my sweet demon.” Louis caressed Sebastian’s bruised jaw, trailing his fingers over the poor white paint job. “Stay away from the baby, alright?”

“Yes Master.” Sebastian nodded, preening when Louis kissed his forehead. “Thank you.”

Lucien retained his expression of displeasure and nodded curtly to Sebastian when the latter demon looked to him. Nothing could subdue Sebastian’s joy today; he remembers adoring clowns for all their tricks and faux magic so this day holds a fair accomplishment for him.

“Enjoy your new suit of skin, Sebastian.” Louis says to his demon with a warm smile. He made a rule for the creatures that they are not allowed to harm or claim a body that is well; if they desired the flesh of an Immortal they must be dying with the remnants of life draining from them.

The other demons remain with their brother in the room of Louis’ house which is assigned to them. Louis bids them each adieu with a kiss to their cheeks, shutting the door behind him. His Weres are asleep for the day and will only awaken at dusk, and Louis often finds himself questioning how at all he survives with an unravelling sleeping pattern.

“There is nothing so severe about his choice, Lucien.” Louis says to the demon awaiting him without word at the doorway. He continues walking but not without Lucien trailing after him. “Sebastian enjoys his new face and I will not ask him to change him.”

“As you wish, Master.” Lucien abates in his argument, bowing his head just the slightest. “Maximus is looking forward to his time alone with you.”

Louis ignored whatever it is that he detected in his leading demon’s tone. “His time alone with me? Lucien, we will be training in the woods. You are more than welcome to tag along if you’re afraid of being left alone.”

“Nay, Master. Although Maximus is a lesser demon than myself, I cannot risk him possessing any disdain towards me.”

Louis manages a condescending guffaw whilst Lucien grimaces. “Are we finally beginning to care about what others feel?”

“Would that impress you about me?” Lucien questions, lacking any bland readable expression. “About us, Master. Your demons.”

“It certainly would.” Louis makes a ponderous expression of slight mockery. “I value empathy above pity.”

Lucien seems to brighten as much as the undead can, gazing across a stifled distance at his Master with nothing but reverence. “Thank you, Master. Stefan wants to see you now.”

Stefan is seated in the living room, dressed in ridiculously tight leather pants and nothing else while he twirls a blade on the coffee table. He is aware of Louis’ entry without the boy needing to make a single sound. “You saw Sebastian’s new face then?”

“If you chip my table you’ll be brooding out there with the coyotes.” Louis rather says, falling onto the couch across from Stefan. “I think the clown thing is cute.”

“Of course, _seles’meus._ He is your demon and it would pain you to deny him something.” The Count murmurs, face and tone unreadable. “I must go back to the castle.”

Louis tenses. “Why?”

“The guard who kept me in the courtyard that first night of my punishment took something from me.” Stefan explains monotonously, but something burns unyieldingly in the crimson of his eye. It triggers the bleeding illusion of irises so red and speaks of his murderous intentions. “I must have it back.”

“You’re forbidden from ever entering the castle grounds.” Louis reminds him. “I could get it back for you.”

“No.” Stefan is studying the double-edged shimmering tip of his blade with reverent eyes. “That guard wanted me to know he had power over me in that moment and took my pendant like the childish moron he is. I want it back, _seles’meus,_ and I will be the one to take it.”

*    *    *    *    *

Training Lucien and Sebastian has reached its capacity so Louis begins working with the less enthusiastic demons that hid behind the more dominant ones amongst them. Maximus is the demon with deep brown hair and blond streaks reaching his shoulderblades but is always tied back in a braid. He possessed the body of a deceased warrior vampire and thus had a flawless muscular physique but had a timid nature to rival anyone of the kind.

“What are you afraid of, Max?” Louis discovered that his manner around his creatures has lessened in aggression over time, as he’s been exposed to being their mentor for much longer.

The demon sat astride the same tree branch that Louis is perched on. “I don’t like hurting things.”

Louis can’t remember a time when he wasn’t stunned by some Immortal’s lacking hostility though it ought to have been in their nature. He stared at Maximus in proportional surprise. “How did you feed yourself then?”

Maximus looked away from the intensity of Louis’ gaze. “Lucien killed for me even though I asked him not to.”

“Alright.” Louis couldn’t think of a single thing to say. “Well, you need to eat to survive and I kind of like you alive.”

A smile too chastely bashful to belong on a demon’s visage arose to Maximus’ features. “Thank you, Master. I like you alive as well.”

“That’s good because I have no intention of allowing either one of us to alter that state of existence.”

Louis finds himself needing to mentor Maximus in his training for hunting and defence from scratch, unlike he had to with the others. Initially he had imagined much of his patience expiring between Maximus’ intolerance for hurting things even in the name of self-preservation and how timid the demon appeared when faced with an attack. Lucien had done more than merely lead these demons; he shielded Maximus as the youngest, from anything he deemed traumatic.

He planned a few hours in the woods longer than he had with the other demons, but after the first set of glowing yellow eyes peeked through the trees Louis decided to retire for the night. The Weres never appreciated Louis’ time spent away from them and rather in the company of the demons, but Louis assured him of his equal regard for all of them. He is spread thin for time during the day after so many creatures have come under his protection and Louis’ only complaint seems to be that there aren’t enough hours to be with them all.

“Maximus, what do you remember about being born?” Louis asks the demon strolling alongside him through the thickening lumber.

The other resumes an uncharacteristically calm appearance; his fingers laced at his back and his towering height caused a slight slouch. “I remember nothing. Father said we had carved from the bodies of men he knew and respected, but were dying.”

Louis hums in acknowledgement. He knows the history of the demon race fairly well but the written volumes never went far enough back to their actual creation. “Do you remember your Father?”

The man who became responsible for the first demons was said to be very kind to them, treating the powerful Immortals as his children. Louis was at first puzzled by the act of one man keeping seven much stronger creatures that are each capable or unimaginable horrors to himself like pets. Today Louis has come to realise that these demons are no less worthy of affection than any of his other creatures.

“Father was not like you.” Maximus says first, his eyes gleaming. “He never wanted us to leave our home even to hunt. Lucien would go with him at times but not the rest of us.”

Louis smiles a little apologetically at the demon. “You’ve seen the world now. What do you think of it?”

Maximus took a moment for himself to think about his answer. “Why do we not get along?”

“What do you mean?”

“It seems as if everyone in this world can do only the bare minimum of tolerating one another, build allies for when we’ll need them. But you have so many who love you and want to offer you aid out of respect or loyalty. Why can’t the rest of our kingdoms do the same?”

Louis takes a shuddery deep breath before he responds. “Believe it or not, our world was once in perfect harmony. We ended up killing each other, the weakest first. Peace never lasts in our world, Maximus. Kindness is weakness and loyalty is vulnerability in the new realm.”

“Is that what you believe?”

“I believe that to each is their own. As long as I look after my own, which is all of you, what others do doesn’t concern me.”

“That would be an easier perspective had you not been the lover to our King.” Maximus bravely states into the frigid night air. “He cares for you deeply, Master, and you for him. If it were my right, I’d wish you both never had to risk your hearts for a better kingdom.”

*    *    *    *    *

The rain seems to rendered some manner of chaos throughout the castle; servants ran about trying to get out of the storm’s exposure with cloaks and ragged cloths over their heads. Louis had been out on the balcony when the clouds unleashed their wrath on everything below, and had not been swayed from the marble railing even now. He savoured the sensation of ice needling at his skin with every stray raindrop, closing his eyes to the flourishing mortality it nurtured within him.

Harry had played the enduring lover when he stayed outside with Louis for a short while before an attendant came with a grave matter at hand. With a kiss goodbye for now, Louis is alone once more with his thoughts.

The castle’s courtyard looked exactly the same to any eye that hadn’t matured with circumstances such as his. Though the flower pots remained in their perfected alignment against the wall with sparse grass struggling to break through stone and gravel, Louis saw each facet for the first time again. A year ago he had not the power or compatibility to be the protector or mate he is now; a year ago he had just his wolves and Vlad to concern himself with.

“To what do I warrant this second visit today?” Stefan left his doorway gaping and sauntered off into the welling abyss of his room. People had stopped threatening the Count centuries ago but his guard was never lowered.

Louis had heard that Stefan had returned to the castle by some trick and was here to contain what damage must have been done. He entered the Count’s room swiftly, shutting the door behind him and instantly regretting it.

The whoosh of air had allowed every dying scent in the room to be unearthed once more, bringing horrid smells to his senses. Louis just barely held back his audible gag but had to cover his nose with the damp sleeve of his shirt. This room was rank with the potent odour of the most final death to all death; true demise smelt of gore and bowel before anything else.

Louis allowed light to flood the room by means of a little switch to his left, and the first thing that came to his notice was the single corpse sprawled a few feet away. He recognised the armour from a guard at this castle and cringed at the unnatural angle which the limbs were flung outward. Blood dripped from the dead guard’s pale lips into a creeping river making its way towards Louis.

Had Louis been a little less unfamiliar with the Count, he might have asked what the Hell was going on. “This is the guard that took your pendant?”

“You are correct, _seles’meus_.” Stefan sat on the bed with his legs crossed and a kindred smile gracing his mouth, untouched by anything crimson.

Louis sighed, resigning to a fate in which he did not question the lunatic. He joined Stefan on the ageing mattress, hiding his grimace poorly at the expulsion of airborne dust. “You never told me why you call me _seles’meus_?”

The term is from one of their oldest languages and any tongue which spoke it is eloquent, upper-crust even. “How badly do you wish to know?”

“It has something to do with torture, I think.” He frowned at the Count’s chuckle at a personal joke. “I want to know.”

Stefan straightened his back to the pin-like poise they were all taught if their blood is blue. The humour is wiped clean from his expression and painfully replaced with something darker, more private. Louis could read many fleeting emotions across the Count’s afire gaze but none so elegant or easily verbalised.

“If I tell you, you must promise to walk away without responding for some days.” Stefan says, voice void of anything descriptive.

Louis doesn’t know why he agrees with the bleeding focus of Stefan’s eyes so intent on him. “Fine. Now spill.”

Something flashed in Stefan’s eye, the only brimming emotion that Louis has ever witnessed on his features. It was thrilling and unsettling. It almost resembled doubt. “I have called you _my torture_ for the years that we have been…closer than strangers.”

Louis opened his mouth with a hefty frown of offense but paused when Stefan raised his stark white hand between them. He noticed that the Count had his necklace back, the perfectly preserved pendant of Louis’ blood back around his neck with a few extra scratches to the crystal.

 “Nobody has ever put a mark on me unless I accepted it, not like you did the first day we met.” Stefan spoke with zero reminiscence in his tone, but something else instead.

Louis didn’t like the feel of the tangible tension encasing them so he made a move to get up. He had a hard time swallowing his heart back into his chest when Stefan caught his arm, holding him still.

Red met blue in nothing short of a blistering war. “You asked, Louis. You must have your answer then.”

“Alright.”

Stefan continued with his hand tightening around Louis’ wrist, his pinkie doing absentminded rotations on the other’s frail skin. He held Louis’ gaze without effort although something weighed heavily on his usual smug appeal. “You drew blood from me and you hadn’t even known my name. Such courage leaves more of a mark on an Immortal than you would assume.”

“You threw me down the stairs.” Louis deadpans.

Stefan did laugh at that, and for all his shocking features or horrid personality it was a beautiful laugh. Like fur at your nape and down your spine, bare skin all the way. “I also saved you from cracking your skull open and kissed you as if you were my lover.”

“I was not.” Louis felt his cheeks flush under the attention of the Count; it was not intense or persevering but merely undivided. “I am not.”

“Aye that is correct.” Stefan smiled with all his charm and skill as if rewarding Louis for stating the obvious. “Regardless, you became _seles’meus_ that day and it will not change.”

The finality to Stefan’s words was rattling, made Louis’ abdomen clench with something too light to be harmless. “You made me your torture. That’s what you call me.”

Louis’ arm was released so he woke up and ran, not a wasted glance backward lest he see that pair of wounded ruby eyes peering at him in his cowardly escape.

*    *    *    *    *

“Of course I knew of the Count’s feelings.” Harry was in his study when Louis found him pacing between walls, fingers linked at his back and shoulders faintly hunched. “His favouritism and forwardness regarding you is not exactly discreet.”

Louis is appalled. “Why didn’t anyone tell me? Why didn’t _you_ tell me?”

The King paused in his restless stride and gazed at Louis with the softest eyes, slitted like those of a piercing reptile’s and peering no shallower than his lover’s distress. “Many more than a few adore you, my fair warrior. It has never been just I that fell so irrevocably for you.”

“You-” Louis got to his feet, groaning miserably with a dull weight lumbering his torso. He couldn’t look at Harry nor at anything else so prim and worthy; Louis wanted to be in the woods where the night made everything crooked enough to despise. “What do I do, Harry?”

“Stefan has always been your ally and I doubt your rejection will change that.” Harry replies stoically. “However, there is something that he failed to tell you and I imagine he did so in order to not cloud your judgment.”

“Well.” Louis looked to his companion with bone-chilling aggravation. He had crossed his arms over his chest and poorly managed his ragged breathing. “What is it?”

Harry ran his palms over his face in a tired fashion although it was impossible for vampires to become fatigued. He stood across the room from Louis with all his walls hoisted and all the graces of a flawless ruler.

“Stefan is dying.” Harry states bluntly, taking the initial moments for gage every minuscule flicker or twitch in Louis’ reaction. The look of horror that meets him is treacherous.

“How?” Is all Louis manages, barely a breath.

Vampires shouldn’t be able to predict their deaths, not the way Mortals could in the form of terminal diseases and severe crippling. No mutations could harm them from birth and nothing short of a blade to the right spot could close their eyes forever. Louis dreaded thinking about the Count withering away until he couldn’t hold his own arm up, let alone the vile name he’s earned. All else aside, including Stefan’s abrupt revelation, Louis had an undoubtable companion in the Immortal. The loss of any friend for Louis is a nightmare to endure.

“Back at his castle one of his attendants had been poisoning the blood he consumed in undetectable doses.” Harry explains. “It’s finally gotten into his bloodstream and nothing short of draining him will cure an imminent death. My love, I put none above you in matters of pride or heart, and had I known the Count adored you so I might have made more of an effort to end him. Although…-”

Louis can’t help but quirk an eyebrow at Harry’s ominous tone. “Although what?”

The King sighed, not of fatigue or distress but of something graver. He ran crooked fingers through silken locks, ending in the magical appearance of a rubber band to tie his hair back. “You would not have let me any more than he would have tried to survive.”

It was at the tip of Louis’ tongue to protest the accusation but it could not be voiced; he swore to never speak petty lies to Harry.

“I would see him again if I were you.” Harry went to the window, peering out at the forest beyond his castle. “Stefan will take a secret like this to his grave. He felt it incumbent to tell you, for what I do not know.”

*    *    *    *    *

The Count was not difficult to locate again in Harry’s vast castle for he had barely moved from the bed in his quarters. Louis might have sworn he was perched the same, holding the same breath as when he’d left an hour ago. Stefan wore a mask to hide that which he wished to keep secret from being exposed in his eyes. Crimson orbs were passive, his lips set in a thin line. Louis could not read the fleeting emotions scurrying across his expression for blood and life.

“You rush to conclusions, _seles’meus_.” Stefan says when Louis gathers the courage to question his motive. “It is an exceptional weapon in battle but not in…other affairs.”

“I’m not familiar with being the subject of toying like this.” Louis answers with more of a bite than intended.

The Count rises from his poorly draped mattress, sauntering closer with an undead grace. Louis resists the urge to step back when Stefan is but a hair’s breath away, a foot taller.

“I do not crave your flesh or an ounce of your lover’s wealth.” Stefan speaks with a sultry volume, somehow sure that Louis would hear him even if the words were mere thoughts. His eyes bore into Louis’ reluctance, tearing into the weak will with savagery. “A friend is not always honest and a soul-mate is not always a lover. Why I’ve come to care for you is because you treat me as I would treat me, and what is beautiful about you could never be replicated. Depth. I will never love you the way Torement or the King does, but know that I am devoted to you perhaps more than they are. You mean my salvation, _seles’meus,_ because I have long since stopped believing in absolution.”

**Author's Note:**

> Is it worthy?


End file.
